


Seven Reasons as to Why

by Aseikh



Category: Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Mental Health Issues, Mild Gore, Mystery, No Slash, No Smut, Original Character Death(s), Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-04-14 23:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 38,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4583625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aseikh/pseuds/Aseikh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*On hiatus until further notice, check note on the first chapter!!*</p><p>Will Treaty had been sent to Ito, not knowing why. Duncan had promised things would happen and people would come. They never did. A month later, he got a letter from Horace. Araluen had been sieged, and was gone. Six years later, Will receives a package, which contains the Seven Reasons why he wasn't allowed to save his country. But with dead men walking, who can focus on letters?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! Seven Reasons as to Why will be going on hiatus until further notice. I'm sorry, but I'm not exactly *into* this story any more. I might never finish it. I might decide to restart in a few years. I might just think "hey, maybe I'll continue 7RATW today" in a few days, and this will mean nothing. Either way, sorry if you were invested in this story, but I'm not. Thanks!

The young Ranger stood on the balcony, leaning over the railing. He was looking over the grand castle and to the city beyond. It was a familiar landscape, yet it wasn't Redmont, or even Castle Araluen. How it was that familiar to be considered as close as Redmont was odd in its own way, considering the Ranger hadn't been here in years. Ito was a large sprawling city, not counting the castle. The Emperor and all his dignitaries, the  _Senshi_ and most servants, all lived there. That wasn't even counting the guests; many came in daily, and the foreign dignitaries weren't even half.

Will Treaty had been sent there, suddenly and without explanation. Even Horace didn't know why, and he just had to go along with Duncan's wishes. The King's wishes didn't really make much sense at the moment though - Araluen was being invaded, from the north and east, and they needed all the help they could get. One might say Will was sent there to ask for help from Nihon-Ja, but they had troops heading over already.

Taking in the beautiful land ahead and behind, the Ranger took a deep breath. The flawless weather currently plaguing the land made the air cool and crisp and the air refreshed the Ranger. As golden leaves started raining down, someone knocked lightly on the door.

'Odd,' the Ranger thought, 'it's nearly dark. Who would be looking for me now?' The young man crossed his small room, passing his cloak and bow, which he had thrown down on a chair near the deep fireplace. Unconsciously, his hand slipped up his side, and rested on his saxe.

Feeling the wrongness in the air, and the dreary silence after the quiet knock, he hesitated at the door. And still feeling something was off, he kept a tight grip on his saxe, while he turned the knob, and opened the door.

Mikeru, the young Kikori who had come back to Ito with Shigeru, was standing on the other side. His eyes showed the exhaustion, and his slouching posture told it all. Something was wrong.

" _Chocho_!" Mikeru cried. Before the Ranger could do anything, Mikeru burst into tears, which were leaving trails down his dirtied face. Shakily, the Kikori pulled a crumpled pile of papers from his bag. He shoved it into Will's arms, and ran.

"Mikeru-san! Mikeru, come back!" He was gone. Everything was pointing to something being wrong. The top paper had Duncan's royal seal stamped hurriedly on the bottom next to his signature.

_-Will Treaty, Ranger 50_

_You are probably wondering why I sent you off to Nihon-Ja, when Emperor Shigeru was one of the first to send aid. I am sorry to admit this to you, Will, and you probably will not be too happy about my decision, but it was mandatory that I send you away, for your own protection. All though you may not have realized it, but if you would have stayed, this war would have hit you harder than any other here. I will not get too far into details, and I have said what I need to say._

_I have also sent a copy of this to Emperor Shigeru, so he knows that you must, and I repeat, must, stay where you are. I am not asking, or telling, but am ordering you to stay. Knowing Rangers, you will want to know what it is I am keeping from you, so this next paragraph is not in Shigeru's copy._

_You may remember this more vividly than I, but you did tell me in detail what happened to you in southern Arrida. You should also remember the ib'n Talud family whom you are friends with. Umar, Ceilema, their child, and their grandchildren. The last time you were there, if I remember correctly, you helped prevent another run-in with the Tualaghi . . . a very dangerous run-in. From what you collected, Iqbal had made friends with very dangerous people, although you couldn't pinpoint who exactly. Along with Meissa, one of Umar's grandchildren, and your friend Hassan, you were able to prevent him from receiving the support he needed to invade Araluen._

_Sometime soon after you receive this letter, Hassan and Meissa will meet up with you._

_You are to do what you did sometime before, and catch Iqbal again. But stay safe, and alive, and try not to stray too far from Nihon-Ja, because we do suspect that he is around that area. There is a reason why I sent you to Nihon-Ja instead of another country, and that is why._

Below that was his signature and seal.

' _But it was mandatory that I send you away, for your own protection'_? Will was sent away for his own protection, yet underneath that in the last paragraph, it clearly states that he's probably going to get into life threating situations.

The Ranger looked up. The hall was deserted, and it was completely silent. Will slid the note to the bottom of the pile, and he stepped back into his small, but cozy room.

* * *

**_SIX YEARS LATER_ **

The Ex-Ranger slid the door shut, and sighed heavily. The paper doors were still something to get used to in Shigeru's summer palace. He tugged off his boots, and slipped on the slippers on the mat next to the door. He shook out his sopping wet hair, and wiped his forehead from the rain pouring down.

Behind him, someone tapped lightly on the paper door. As Will turned, the door slid silently open to admit Shigeru.

"Shigeru-san, did you need something? I was just about to wash up and come down for dinner." Will brushed the wet hair out of his eyes, and meet eyes with his friend. The Ex-Ranger grinned.

"Ah, yes,  _Chocho_. I was awaiting your return, in a sort of agitation. You received a package." He pushed out his hands towards Will, and showed him the package. Something seemed a bit odd about it . . .

"Th-that says it's from Araluen."

The last time had heard Will from Araluen, was six years ago. A month after he had gotten a letter from the former King Duncan, explaining why he had been sent out, he had gotten another letter, from Horace. Araluen had been completely sieged. First to go was Seacliff, than Macindaw. Slowly, the whole country had been taken over. The two people who had been promised to come, never came, therefore he never left. He never got to see he beloved country, or even his family, since then. No word has been heard from anyone. Will assumed they all died.

Shigeru nodded, and handed the package over to Will. When the package was safely rested in Will's hands, Shigeru put his hand down softly on the top. "If it is serious, you do not need to come down for dinner. You can ask for me whenever, if you need help." With that, the Emperor stepped back, and slid the door shut.

The Ex-Ranger was still shell-shocked. His eyes were blank, and his mouth slightly opened in disbelief. A note was tied to the top of the brown package, which was dated from less than a month ago. It was from Duncan.

_-Will_

_Many things have happened in the past six years. Mostly the first half-year for you, though. I am aware Horace sent you a letter, telling you that Araluen had fallen. Well, he wasn't lying. I understand that you may be angry with me, and may not even read this letter after seeing it was from me. Though, you might keep the package, and this letter explains what the package means – so I will keep another copy of this inside the package. If you read this, the letter with five ink drops on the top is the same letter as this one._

_Inside this package, the separate folders inside keep the Seven Reasons, and their explanations. Some of the stories may bother you, but if you wish to find out exactly what happened, you MUST keep reading. There are Seven Reasons, as said before, each with one letter of explanation, and six events. Read all of it, if you wish to discover what happened._

Underneath that was his signature. There was no sign of a royal seal next to that. Will slowly walked over to the table near the door, and fell into a chair.

After a month of staying in Ito, Will had received a letter from Horace, as was explained before. Thing is, something else Horace had explained was that not a week after Will had left, Duncan had gone missing. No one had seen him since then.

The young man warily sat up, and set the small brown package on the table in front of him. He quickly pulled the brown paper off the package, and opened the flaps of the box. As promised, there were seven leather folders resting inside. Each had a thick pile of papers inside, separated with thinner folders. Will placed a hand on the folder on the top, labeled  _First Reason_.

The Ex-Ranger took a deep breath, drew the thick leather folder out of the package, and flipped it open.


	2. Survival of the Rangers

_The first Reason is for the Survival of the Rangers._

Will stopped reading at that. Survival of the Rangers? Wouldn’t that mean they were dying off? But . . . But they were Rangers! Yeah, one died every once and a while, but . . . ‘No,’ Will told himself, ‘keep reading.’ . . .

_That may sound alarming to you, being a Ranger yourself, and being close friends with multiple Rangers. As you know, obviously, there are fifty Rangers, all of them kill hard and are hard to kill. That’s how Rangers are trained. Thankfully, you are on our side. Horace had always commented repeatedly about how whenever he saw you, Halt, or Gilan shoot, he would have a brief thought of how lucky he was not to be on the other end of the arrow._

_In the month that you have been gone, many things have happened. Too many to count. One of them, what happened to the Rangers, I thought you should learn first . . . well, actually Crowley did. They were your friends, and you deserve to know that not many survived. I am also sorry to tell you that out of the original fifty, only four remain._

Only four? Will abruptly stood, knocking the chair back. ‘Halt . . . Gilan . . . Crowley . . . D-does that mean . . . ?’ The chances that all three of them were alive . . . The young man nervously ran his hand through his growing hair. Looking down on the table, where he had placed the first file, he slowly realized what he was reading. How small of a chance would his family have of being alive?

“I’m reading the memoirs of my dead family,” he whispered. His eyes widened, and moisture started to cloud his vision. He had already guessed that his family had been killed. In fact, he had already accepted that they were all dead. Except . . . this was a confirmation. There had always been a chance that they were still alive, that they just couldn’t communicate, or they just plainly didn’t know where he was. This made it final.

They were dead.

There was some tapping on the door behind him, and the door slid open. Someone stepped inside.

“ _Sencho!_ We were getting concerned about you. You usually do not skip dinner, or go out for such an extended walk—or for that matter, go out for a walk during a storm.” ‘ _Sencho Chocho’_ turned and faced the _Senshi._ They had taken to speaking in mixed language, as Will had been with them for six years, and had been on the edge of his patience when he decided to do something. And something, he did. The _katana_ was surprisingly easy for him to learn, and even though he wasn’t a _Sencho,_ he was still named one because of his skill. He was also as fluent as a native speaker in Nihon-Jan, which was quite a pleasant surprise for Shigeru.

“Ah, sorry about that, Atsushi-san. I didn’t feel up to dinner, and I am quite tired. I didn’t mean to worry you.” The _Sencho_ smiled softly. At hearing his explanation, Atsushi quickly turned red. He stuttered a few times, forgot how to speak common tongue, then paused, and nodded.

“I apologize for bothering you.” He stepped back, and silently slid the door shut. ‘Sometimes,’ Will thought, ‘it seems they take the playful title a little too seriously.’

Will warily glanced back down to the papers spread across the table. Picking up the chair he had knocked down and setting it right, he took his seat once more, and continued reading . . .

_But do not worry. Halt is as stubborn as ever, and isn’t one of the perished. And, of course, Gilan took on that characteristic from training with him, and mostly hung around him during the time, meaning he is still standing as well. Your commandant is also still standing. (Maybe Crowley gave the stubbornness to Halt, and Halt gave it to Gilan?)_

Will slapped himself, and ran his hand down his face. He should’ve just kept reading . . .

_But, that’s only three of the four Rangers I promised were alive. You know Andross, I presume? He was one of the older Rangers, and the other Ranger who was lucky enough to live though everything. There were five before, but he, Skinner, died. What happens to him will be explained in the last of the stories of this Reason._

_I guess this most likely will be made out to be a habit, but I’ll tell a short bit of what each is about, okay? Just to give you a little heads-up, in case one should . . . bother you._

The ex-Ranger silently nodded to himself. Then smiled slightly. Why was he smiling? He was alone, and this was a letter . . .

_I’m assuming that this first story is something I’ll never learn about completely. Crowley insists that if this is being sent to you, that he would like to write it, so you would learn all of what started the dreadful slaughtering of the Rangers. What I can tell you on my own might not be enough._

_All I know is that during the annual Ranger Gathering, a forest fire was started. Most got out alive and with minor injuries, but there were a few that got severe burns on arms and legs. Unfortunately, not all got away with their lives. Eleven Rangers died in that furnace, and just between you and me, I think it destroyed Crowley. (Do not tell him I said that.)_

 A fire? At a Gathering? Tipping back his chair, Will curled the paper in his hand, and tapped his chin, with a thoughtful expression displayed across his face. Rangers were careful of fire and knew, obviously, how to control it for campfires. It wouldn’t be remotely possible for it to be an accident, because for the fire to be started by an irresponsible or foolish Ranger would be a life-threatening situation, a type that Rangers are trained against. Even if it was a Ranger’s apprentice, the mentor, or supervising Ranger at the time, should have been around. Only the later-year apprentices were left alone.

So, that means someone started it on purpose, if that wasn’t clear already. But, if it was started on purpose, whoever it was, how did they find the Gathering grounds? Who was it? Did they have a personal grudge on the Rangers, or a certain Ranger in particular? And did this have anything to do with who was believed to have started the war, Iqbal Makali?

‘So many questions, such little information,’ Will thought, ‘classic Ranger problem,’ . . .

_This second one, I also don’t have much knowledge of. Gilan mainly dealt with it, and he gave me the file that went along with his case. That’s why the files are so thick; some of them have actual papers and reports that dealt with these problems. Just as the second story has. Although, Gilan, excited as ever wanted me to tell you something. He wanted me to tell you that he misses you, and that he hopes everything is going well over there. Ah, he also said a few other things, but I told him to just send you a letter. It would be easier for the both of us. Maybe you’ve already received it?_

_Either way, in this accident, there were multiple reports of a dark figure (or multiple) that seemed to be following eight separate Rangers. One would see this ‘dark figure’, and report him; than the Ranger would go missing. After a while they would be found, but . . . let’s just go onto the next one . . ._

The wind outside picked up immensely, and rain battered hard against the thin paper doors. Will’s head snapped up as thunder boomed higher up in the mountains. The storm was getting much more violent.

A ‘dark figure’ was following Rangers? Again, Will curled the paper in his hand, and tapped his chin. Exactly how do you follow a Ranger? Well, if you were a Ranger, you could, but still, it would be hard to successfully do that without the other Ranger detecting you. Again, more questions, no answers.

Who was the ‘dark figure’? Was there more than one person involved? If there were only one person, was he the same person who started the forest fire at the Gathering? Did he have a grudge against the Rangers? And why were those particular Rangers signaled out? Or was it just random?

‘I’ll just have to wait to read the stories to figure everything out,’ . . .

_The next two are surprisingly simple, though, how this one happened, I have no idea. Once again, Crowley insisted on writing this one, as he’s the one who knows most of what happened. Not much is actually known, but your commandant is the one who knows the most._

_Four Rangers were killed by poisonings, each at a different point on the map. A case in the north, south, east, and west. Norgate, Caraway, Salkire, and Seacliff. I don’t want to know if that means anything, or what it means, if it does mean something. I believe that you have had experiences with this type of poison, correct? I believe Malcolm in the North called it corocore. He also said that when you two first met, Lord Orman and his father had been poisoned with the same poison, and that you had originally brought Orman to Malcolm for his help. That is the same poison that killed four Rangers. They just weren’t as lucky as your friend Lord Orman._

Corocore . . . yes that was the original poison that had brought down Lord Syron, and nearly killed Orman. Will tipped his hand, and let the three papers slip out.

Something was wrong with these papers, but what was it? It wasn’t what they were describing, but **how** it was being said, and something that was being said in the first explanation of each number. The way Duncan had written it, it seemed as if they expected to see him again. As if they got the date wrong . . . He said Gilan would send a letter. Gilan never sent a letter, only Horace and Duncan had sent him letters. And the last time he got one, from Araluen, was six years ago, excepting this package, and its introduction letter, of course.

And this couldn’t be recent, could it? Araluen had fallen years ago, and Duncan himself went missing after Will had left. Unless, the rest of his family were refugees, found this, and sent it, it would be impossible for this to be recent. And Will knewthat there were refugees, he had met some himself. Some knight, couriers, and scribes had escaped, but refused to leave their home. Refused to stop fighting.

Will fidgeted in his seat as he recalled his experiences. He had snuck out of Nihon-Ja, against Shigeru’s advice, and Duncan’s orders, and went to see if Horace’s news was true . . . he never got past the first refugee camp. He twitched again, and stood up. He went across to the front door behind him, than past the table to the living area beyond. Then he turned back around after just getting past the table, and went back around the table. There he was pacing for the next half-hour. Worst of all, he started to rub the top of his shoulder, where he could still feel the slash of the sword cut into his body. And that’s how Shigeru found him.

The door slid open without a tap, and Shigeru stepped in.

“ _Chocho_! Why do you pace so much?” A small, slightly concerned smile was touching the edges of his mouth, and he had his arms folded behind his back. He was in his sleeping attire, and looked quite worn out.

Will stopped in front of his friend, and crossed his arms. He was tapping his foot, tapping his arm, constantly, without break. His eyes were blinking rapidly, and his breaths were coming short, fast, and alarmingly irregular. His hand came up, and covered his face from view. Shigeru reached out, and placed a hand on Will’s shoulder. “ _Chocho,_ my friend. What is it? I could hear you pacing from my room, and mine is three down the hall.”

* * *

The door slid closed, and Shigeru was off to sleep. Will was on his own . . .

_As I said before in the previous point, these two reasons would be quite simple. Though, I do find this one disturbing. I mean, how do you kill a Ranger in a fashion such as this? This is one of the most simple, but sadly seven Rangers died._

_Each of the seven Rangers were found in the Solitary Plains. All together. They all disappeared one day, and a week later, there were in the Solitary Plains, dead. Each seemed to not have suffered, but it was still horrid what happened to them. What concerned Crowley the most was that their oak leaves were thrown into a fire, and were half melted when they were found._

The paper fell out of his hands again. Oak leaves, thrown into a fire? Something like that happened in Arrida . . . Meissa and Hassan were Bedullin, and how you told the different tribes from each other in Arrida was the color of their veils and keffiyahs. The Bedullin had checkered white and yellow veils, and therefore so did Meissa and Hassan. Apparently, someone had attacked one of the Bedullin encampments one night, and a few of their people were dragged off. Later, their bodies were found, with a nearby campsite.

Fragments of some veils were found near the fire, and there was only a single survivor of the people who were dragged off – Hassan.

Everything was leading back to Arrida and the Bedullin . . . somewhat. Will went to stand up again, but he stopped himself. ‘Sit down, Treaty . . .’ he told himself.

The wind rattled the doors, and started to shake some outside walls. Lightning flashed, and thunder cracked above, closer this time. Will reached across the table to the blanket he had thrown on the table when following Shigeru out. He wrapped it around his bare shoulders, and covered up his traditional Nihon-Ja summer shirt. He hadn’t worn his Ranger uniform for years, and at first it felt odd, not feeling the usual sweep of his cloak behind his back, or at his heels, nor having his hood up and over his head. But he was used to not having it now. He still kept it of course, folded up neatly at the bottom of his trunk, but it was rarely put to use . . .

_This fifth one is quite sad, in fact. With the twenty remaining Rangers scared out of their wits, Crowley had set up an emergency Gathering. With only twenty of them left, they easily fit somewhere else. They were meeting at another location (Crowley refuses to tell me where, though I have a pretty good guess), and they felt safe. Well, they weren’t._

_During their meeting, they were so focused on trying to figure out what was happening to them, that they didn’t notice others who weren’t supposed to be there. They were ambushed, and some bloody battle broke out. Gilan was injured horribly in that fight, and may not be able to see in his left eye ever again. Fifteen Rangers died, and they had brought down with them at least thirty of the attackers. It horrified me when I learned what had happened._

‘Oh, god . . .’ Will covered his mouth. His shoulders started to shake after realizing what had befallen his friends. Gilan, not being able to see out of his left eye? Wouldn’t that mean he wouldn’t be able to shoot his bow? He wouldn’t be able to throw straight, or even, possibly, be able to parry with his sword easily without there being some horrible miscalculation and him getting hurt all over again.

Thinking about the injuries brought Will’s mind back to where it shouldn’t be. The pain, coursing throughout his chest, the feeling of not being able to breath, kept running through his mind. Before he could stop himself, his breaths were quick and short, and his hand started to trace his scar frantically, as if trying to prove as if it wasn’t there, but only making it seem more prominent. Deep and ragged at the top of his left shoulder, thinner across his chest, and then biting deep again and ending at his hip. The sword was probably only stopped because it had smashed into his hip bone on his right waist. Over, and over, and over, he traced it. His vision started to tunnel, and black out on the sides, before he slowly heard a voice he hadn’t heard since . . .

“Hey, Will, have I ever told you how badly you suck at lying?  Well, at least to me, you suck at it. Who knows how many times you’ve come back from a mission or patrol, saying you’re okay, when you actually aren’t? It’s near comical, really, how you try and pass off being ‘fine’. I live you with, I see you practically every day, and you think I wouldn’t be able to detect a slight limp, or a slouch in your normal upright posture? If you are injured, I can tell. Don’t try and pass it off. If you are sick, oh boy, I can tell right away, even if you think you just have a tickle in your throat.”

Just hearing her talk, hearing her voice, what sounded like her **actual** voice . . . The deep breaths came seconds later, and his vision started to return to normal. Shakily, he let his hand stop its hopeless mission in finding proof that his scar didn’t exist. He stood up straighter, and looked about his rooms, in search of where her voice had come from, but his rooms were empty. He looked back down at the papers, and tried to cast her out of his mind . . .

_Now, I know before I started the summaries of the stories, I said Skinner would be one of the five that had originally survived, but that he had died. Skinner was patched up from the battle, and was staying at Castle Araluen with the others when this happened. They all had rooms near each other to make sure that they could help one another if something happened. They heard nothing._

_The next day, after a seemingly peaceful night, the five remaining Rangers were to meet in Crowley’s office. I don’t want to say too much, as this reason is rather short, and this explanation is already long enough, but Skinner never showed up. He was gone._

“That’s not good,” Will gulped.

* * *

  _Will! Hey! Not sure if you could tell from my handwriting, but it’s me, your ever amazing and awesome commandant, Crowley. Duncan says that he’s trying to explain things to you, so I insisted that what happened to the Rangers **must** be included. I also insisted that I have to explain it myself._

_The first, as I think Duncan explained in his last letter, was the fire at the Gathering that took place the day after you left. Now, I know you wanted to stay until after the Gathering, but you got orders from Duncan to leave immediately, and that you weren’t allowed to even say goodbye to the family that weren’t currently at Castle Araluen. Even though he never actually said the family part, damn, that’s actually pretty sad. I wonder how you dealt with that._

Will leaned back into his chair, and let a light smile flicker through. In his mind, he could hear the sarcastic tone of Crowley’s, reading the letter out loud to him. He could even imagine the eye-roll the commandant would have gotten from Halt for some of the things he wrote . . .

_Either way, I’m actually glad that you did leave before the Gathering. Who knows what would’ve happened, you could’ve died! I’m actually pretty lucky that I didn’t die, (I got quite a few burns, and cuts like others) nor any more than eleven Rangers die._

Surprisingly, after _‘eleven Rangers die’,_ something seemed to have spilled on the rest of the paper. It was illegible, and only small parts were actually readable . . .

_. . . eleven Rangers die. Though . . . . . even st . . . . . Ran . . . . . . . . . . . . . or maybe even an . . . . . . claimed that . . . . Duncan . . . . . . . . . You might’ve meet them during your time in Arrida, the sec . . . . . Meissa and . . . tho . . an . . . You probab . . . B . . . Clem . . . and als . . . . eri . . He . . . ack . . . f . . . an . . . ut . . . . . . gh . . . . ._

_. . . hu . . . ui . . . oh . . . oh . . . hi . . . but then . . . ._

The ex-Ranger threw down the papers in a flash of frustration. He couldn’t read anything, and the further down the paper he went, the less he could understand. Just missing two paragraphs confused him so much that he couldn’t understand anything after it became clear. As Will took a closer look at the watermarks, it soon became clear that it wasn’t a spill. They were drops, splashes possibly.

In Duncan’s previous letter, in the paragraph explaining what had happened at the Gathering, the last thing he said was _‘just between you and me, I think it destroyed Crowley. (Don’t let him know I said that.)’._ Will put a hand over his mouth, and realized what those watermarks were: his tears. He had to write about Rangers dying, something he could do nothing to prevent.

Will flipped past the two sheets that were splashed with the tears. From what he could tell, the first two sheet were just explaining things further than what Duncan had. The next five sheets were actually a written story. Crowley had written down some parts, while at other parts, Gilan and Halt’s handwriting could be seen.  In the margins, all three Rangers had written down things to add to what the other had said, either bringing in more details, explaining something further, or just adding humorous comments to lighten the mood. Though, most of the comments were Gilan, and the further explaining was mainly Halt. Crowley’s comments seemed to just be clarifying things. For now, just reading the actual story is what the ex-Ranger aimed to do, he could read Gilan’s and Halt’s comments later . . .

_I guess I could start with my conversation with Halt and Gilan, about where you were. It was the second day of the Gathering, and you hadn’t showed up, and as far as those two knew, you never sent word. They had actually thought you were supposed to come with me, but when I came alone, and refused to talk about you or anything to do with you or the past few days before I headed out for the Gathering, they, well, they got a little worried._

_We were sitting around the fire in front of the main tent. We were sitting in our usual spots, Halt and I on one log and Gilan on the other, with an empty spot next to him where you usually sat. We were silent, all sipping our coffee, and enjoying, to an extent, each other’s silent company. Although, I could tell that Gilan was burning to catch my attention, to ask me that question again, and I knew that this time, I wouldn’t be able to wheedle my way out of answering. Halt wanted an answer just as much as he did. Except, Gilan was the annoying one. He was starting to get on my nerves._

_Finally, I really couldn’t stand it anymore. “ **What Gilan!?”** I snapped at him, and across the fire, I could see him flinch from my sudden outburst, and coffee sloshed out of his cup. As Gilan’s coffee came back down to earth, and stained his pants, Halt next to me jerked away, and gave me a look that told me I said that a little too loud, and with a bit too much ferocity. Clarke, who had been walking by, stumbled and glanced curiously, albeit, concernly, at our little group before continuing by._

_I let go of my empty cup, my pinky finger still wrapped around the handle so it swung a bit before falling to the ground at my feet. I cradled my head in a hand, and stared deep into the fire._

Going past his usual emotional limitations, the ex-Ranger allowed himself a smile. Yeah, he had smiled in the past, it had never been so . . . well, it had never been provoked by him actually being amused by something.

Will tipped back the chair, hesitated, but put his feet up on the table anyway. Halt had always drilled into him not to tip back the chairs because it damaged them or something like that. But after leaving the grizzled Ranger’s apprenticeship, Halt had done just that, tipped back the chair, and put his dirty boots up on what had been Will’s own table. And of course, Halt had some sarcastic comment when his apprentice started to protest. But, of course, when Will put his feet on his table, in his room, he still hesitated. And of course, he made sure not to put his feet, although completely clean, on any of Duncan’s papers . . .

_Gilan had started to open his mouth to speak, but I held up my free hand to tell him to hold his questions. The three of us waited there for a few moments, Gilan’s mouth hanging half open, my hand up, and Halt looking at me curiously. During the silence between us, I listened to the sounds around us. The quiet murmur of the fifty-odd Rangers around us, the crackle of the fire, the crickets in the forest around us . . ._

_“Will was originally with me,” I started, “and he was originally going to come here with me, just as you assumed. He was mainly summoned so he could give an in-depth report of what happened to him in Arrida to Duncan. Apparently, what happened to him there is what provoked this current war,” I took a deep breath, and looked between the two faces. Halt motioned for me to continue. “Well, as you know, Halt, he was supposed to come straight away from Redmont, and after his main talk with Duncan, he was just supposed to hang around Araluen with me, Horace, Cassandra, and Duncan. Yeah, he was asked questions by Duncan or a representative at random times during the month he was with us, but that’s all. I still had him doing Ranger duties, by asking him to patrol around or go into town or stuff like that._

_“Well, a few days before we were supposed to leave for this Gathering, Will was called into Duncan’s office very suddenly. Very, very suddenly, because, in fact, the two of us were talking, and he was about to leave me so he could go to bed. I was supposed to come to Duncan’s study as well.”_

_Halt nodded at this. So far, this was what he’d heard. During the month you were gone from Redmont, you had sent a letter to Halt, just that day when the two of us were summoned. It said everything I had just said, with maybe a few of your sarcastic comments you picked up from training with him. But it didn’t include what I said about us being summoned by Duncan that night, or anything else that happened that day._

So far, this all seemed mostly right. Will was originally supposed to come to the Gathering with Crowley, when the ex-Ranger, then just a Ranger, was asked to come to Araluen to give more explanation to his trip to Arrida the year before. And yes, the two of them were summoned at night, but not when he was going to bed, or after he had spoken to Crowley. He was actually already asleep, and in his own room. He was woken up, and met Crowley outside of Duncan’s office. ‘Wonder why he wrote down something else . . . unless he was writing down the truth of what he said, and had actually said that to Halt and Gilan. But why would he lie to them, about the time of day, of all things? He could’ve just forgotten,’. . .

_I shifted my position, and stretched out my legs. “After knocking, and getting a reply to come in, we found Duncan pacing in front of his desk. Without even saying anything, Duncan spun on Will. He started asking him these questions, mainly about what happened in Arrida. I didn’t catch half the questions, because Duncan was asking them so quick and surprisingly quiet, as if he didn’t want me to hear. He had motioned for me to stay near the door, that it wasn’t my turn yet. Will answered all of the questions without hesitation, and in the same quick and quiet tone that the King had been using. The last question, I didn’t catch, but I could tell it was serious. Duncan stopped his pacing and stood in front of Will to ask him the question. Will, when he heard the question, seemed rather flustered, and I heard Will respond with ‘Why does_ that _of all things matter? How is that even relevant to this situation?’ At that, Duncan stepped closer to him, put a hand on his shoulder, and, from what I could get from Will later, and repeated the question.”_

_Halt furrowed his eyebrows, and for once in his stubborn life, had a genuinely puzzled look on his face._

_I continued, “Long story short, you’re not going to see him for a while. After Will answered Duncan’s question, the King slowly nodded after he took a step back. Suddenly, he rushed to his desk, and started to flip through his papers. A discarded one floated to the floor at Will’s feet, and he bent down to pick it up. He set it back on the desk, before turning to me, as I was still standing by the door, and shared a confused and worried expression with me.” I started to speak again, but Gilan, being who he is, had stood up in disbelief when I said he wasn’t going to be seeing you for a while. Before I could start again, he started._

_“Wait! Wait, what d’ya mean we won’t being seeing Will again? Why?”_

_Halt, who had been sitting quietly beside me, whispered “Gil, let him finish.”_

_Gilan, who I could tell still had plenty of questions, slowly sat down. Halt motioned for me to continue._

_“After we had shared the look, Duncan suddenly stopped. He gave the two of us some . . . orders. Those orders were –“_

_“FIRE! FIRE!” The yell carried across the field, the apprentice who yelled it soon being echoed by his mentor, and others still. “FIRE, RUN!”_

_Dark smoke was billowing up behind me, and Rangers were already running around us, most of them running to their horses. Flames were climbing up trees, and spreading to others. Soon enough, while the three of us were still sitting in stunned silence, the flames filled the sky._

_“CROWLEY! COME ON! HALT, GILAN!”_

_Halt grabbed Gilan’s wrist, planning on dragging him in front. But I beat him to it, by grabbing Halt’s wrist and dragging them both in front of me. I was going to stay until I was sure everyone was in front of me. “Halt, go! I’ll catch up!” I called. He nodded slightly, and pushed Gilan in front of him. I watched them join Ambrose and Louie as they started to ride out of the Gathering grounds. For another minute, I stood where I had sat for the last two hours, with the fire raging around me, waiting for Rangers to pass me. I counted. Only thirty had passed me, counting Halt, Gilan, Ambrose, and Louie, and twenty were still missing from my view. I could feel the fire getting stronger. It had now completely surrounded the Gathering grounds, and was starting to travel inwards, catching tents and camping supplies Rangers hadn’t bothered to pick up in the rush._

If Crowley had been sitting in front of the main tent, like usual, he would have been sitting in the center of the clearing. Meaning, yes, he should have been able to see if anyone had passed him, easily in fact. Yet, he said he was only counting the ones passing him. Obviously, other Rangers could have left the grounds by another way. Other than the side that the fire started on, of course. He was hoping for a death wish waiting for all fifty Rangers, and the apprentices, to pass him. He should’ve known that. Something more seemed off with this letter, but he couldn’t place it.

Will shifted his position, and let the chair rest back on the floor. He lifted his legs, and swung around and off the chair. Standing up, with the papers in hand, he walked around the table and down a single step into the main portion of his small apartment. It was small, cozy, and just how he liked it. There was a small couch, with a coffee table in front of it. He usually sat at the larger table, which was placed in front of the entry way. You would have to go around the table, which he made himself a few years ago after getting aching knees, after coming through the paper door. He liked it that way, for someone couldn’t come in easily. He didn’t trust that many people these days. He sat down at the small couch, swung around, and lied down to continue reading the papers . . .

_At least ten more people passed me, before one grabbed my wrist and insisted that I needed to leave. I couldn’t stay any longer, or I would die, either from the flames or the smoke. But, of course, I wanted to make sure all the Rangers were out. The air was starting to get thick with smoke, and I couldn’t see that far. A while ago, it had started to get extremely hot. The Ranger insisted that I left with him immediately. I shook my head, and squinted my eyes through the smoke, hoping to see more silhouettes moving towards us. There were none. Finally, the Ranger tugged my wrist hard, and started the drag me along behind him. No more were coming. We had to get out of there._

Wait, ‘ _at least ten more people pass me’_? That can’t be right! If ten more people passed him, that meant that forty Rangers escaped that way. Duncan stated in the first letter that eleven Rangers died in the fire. All of the surviving Rangers wouldn’t have been stupid enough to only go out one way! It’s a forest, and the fire only started on one side. Will crossed his legs on the couch, before moving the papers closer to his face. He couldn’t read the writing anymore. He squinted at the paper he was holding above his head. The paper was blurry . . . but that wasn’t what bothered him. Crowley’s details were getting less in-depth. He was trying to get this over with. ‘He didn’t want to write this, but he probably did it so I could know’, the ex-Ranger thought. As the page started to get blurry again, Will reached across the thin gap between the couch and coffee table, and grabbed the only thing that currently rested there: his glasses. Honestly, he didn’t enjoy the fact that he had to get glasses when he couldn’t read something a _Senshi_ gave him. He tried to blame it on the _Senshi’s_ writing, but he hadn’t gotten away with it. They were only for reading, but still, they were such a nuance . . .

_I don’t remember much more from that day, Will. After that Ranger and I had started to run from the flames, which were licking at our heels, I realized what the smoke was actually doing to me. I couldn’t breathe, and I could barely see. The longer we ran, the more I stumbled and gasped for air. Soon I was relying on the Ranger to steer me along, but he was also have trouble. He must have been in the fire as long as I had, so he was in the same state I was in._

_By the time we got out of the forest, and into clearer land, with the remaining Rangers across the river about half a kilometer away, my vision started to tunnel. My eyes involuntarily shut, and I felt myself fall from the other Ranger’s grasp. In these next paragraphs, Halt will fill you in, because I, obviously, wasn’t conscious. Though . . . I_ was _filled in with everything that happened, so I technically could finish. But I think Halt wants to say ‘hi’._

The page ended at that, and that was the last sheet. Will flipped over the page, hoping that Halt’s piece might be written on the back. The back was blank. The next page was missing.

Will threw the pages away, sat up, and vaulted himself over the top of the couch. He jumped up the step, and slid around to the other side of the table, the side closest to the wall. He didn’t want to be left off at an ending like that! What happened? And who was the Ranger that helped Crowley out of the fire?

Most of the papers and leather folders were still resting in the package. Only the original letter from Duncan lay underneath the sheets that explained what was in the ‘First Reason’. Each Reason had been tied together with the papers that went along with the story. Yet there were no extra sheets to be seen. _Chocho_ pulled the other six folders out of the box. He grabbed the second folder, and shuffled through all the papers in that folder. No extra papers, as far as he could tell. He flipped through the rest of the folders. No extra papers. Every sheet was marked with their respective Reason on the top right corner, and there were no ‘Reason 1’ marked papers in any of the folders.

Except the second copy of Duncan’s original letter. The one the King said would have five ink drops on it. That letter was actually sitting with the original, thrown to the side because the ex-Ranger already knew what it said. Or that’s what he thought at least. Will glanced back and forth between the original and the copy, noticing only one other difference other then five ink drops – the envelope of the copy was thicker. He had folded the original back up, and back into its envelope, and thrown it to the side when he opened the package. He had also thrown the copy next to it, as was said before. If they were the same letter, then why would one be thicker?

He reached across the table, grabbed the second letter, and pulled it out of its envelope. One small sheet slipped out, an exact copy of Duncan’s first letter. Another sheet had been folded around the smaller one. Duncan had put the ending to the first story in his letter to make sure he had read it. A clever thought if he hadn’t read the first one, an annoying one because he had.

The larger sheet had Halt’s handwriting, just as promised, and the Reason number was dutifully stamped in the top right corner. Will relaxed his shoulders, lulled into comfort by Halt’s familiar handwriting, and the encroaching bliss of sleep. He had to at least finish this first story before he closed his eyes.

‘Funny,’ he thought, just before he started to read, ‘how I can still tell their handwriting apart after six years,’ . . .

_Gilan, being thicker in the skull than usual, had gone back in, if you were wondering. Nearly all the Rangers were out, yet Crowley was nowhere to be seen. Gilan, came out about five minutes later, thankfully dragging our commandant after him. I and a few other Rangers ran out towards the stumbling pair, and arrived next to them just in time. Ten meters after they had run out of the forest, Crowley fell. Gilan had stopped to kneel beside him, and was just bending over to see if he was still conscious when we got there._

_“Found him, Halt. Although, I think we may need to carry him for now,” Gilan gasped out. Crowley was unconscious, and Gilan just about to be so as well._

_And that’s why I’m writing what’s left. Not much left to explain. After we got Crowley across the river with the rest of the Rangers, we finally counted ourselves. Not counting you of course, everyone had been to this Gathering. In total, eleven Rangers were missing, and no apprentices. All apprentices had fled with their mentors, and all of them had made it out. Most Rangers wanted to go back in there, to look for anyone who could still be alive. But it was still dangerous in there, and the senior group, as Crowley wasn’t there, decided that no one would go in there. There was a large possibility that we would just lose more people. In the end, we had to wait until the fire died down to go back in there anyway._

_Crowley didn’t wake up for some time. Not until midday the next day did he wake up, and even then, he acted slow and tired and was coughing constantly. He stayed back with Gilan, who also wasn’t in the best condition, when fifteen of us finally went back in there a few days later. Some places were still smoldering. I hadn’t realized how intense the fire had actually been until I went back in there._

_Three crisp bodies were found. No faces were recognizable on them. Five other bodies were found, not burned at all. We could tell who each of them  were. Three bodies were still missing, yet we found no more._

_I’m sorry, Will. It gets much worse than just this._

Someone tapped lightly on the paper door. Will’s head snapped up, but he stayed bent over the table. Who would come here at this time? Wasn’t it time that everyone was in bed? No one should be up and around waking people up at a time like this. Unless it was an emergency.

“Will . . .” the ex-Ranger stood up straight. His eyes widened. He was hearing things now. He truly was going crazy. Shigeru and Kiyoshi, the Emperor’s personal doctor, told him it was just the anxiety. They said that his new ‘problems’ were from anxiety, and going through a traumatic event. No. No, he was going crazy. He was hearing dead people. Reading things, sent from dead people. Sometimes, he saw dead people. ‘No,’ they all said, ‘you’re just imagining it. Ranger’s do tend to have an amazing imagination.’ Will tapped his chin. ‘If I was experiencing all of these thing with dead people . . . well . . .

‘Maybe I am dead,’ Will thought. The ex-Ranger looked down, before setting his head to rest on the table’s surface.

‘I certainly deserve to be.’

* * *

  _He was sitting, alone, cross-legged in the center of a white room. There was no furniture, windows, or doors. There was no source of light, not even a candle, yet the ex-Ranger could sense the light dimming. Slowly, the white walls were turning grey, and soon, black._

“No. No, please stop. I can’t take it. Please . . .”

_He bent over, and held his hands over his ears. It would start soon. Would there be an end this time, or would it go on and on and on and on, like they promised every night? Like they promised, **every single night.**_

_“You certainly deserve to be. But you’re not,”_ it was Halt’s voice, _“but you’re not dead, and we are. Why’s that? **I wonder.** ”_

_“Because you ran away,”_ now it was Horace. _“You ran away, and you **let** us die. You didn’t even think twice. You didn’t even argue.”_

_“You just ran,”_ now Gilan. _“You didn’t even **look back.** ”_

_“Didn’t you consider us family? I thought you did. I thought family **meant** somethingto you. Apparently not.”_ Evanlyn?

_“If we were family, why didn’t you come back?”_ Pauline? _“But . . . since you didn’t come back . . .”_

**_“You must not care about us.”_** It was all of them, with venom in their voices.

_“Did you ever love me?”_ **Alyss.**

“No. I . . . I did. I – I never . . .”

_“So we meant nothing to you?” “I knew it.” “Did you just ‘care’ about us so you could take advantage of us?” “That’s it isn’t it?” “I knew it. We meant nothing to you.” “Don’t insist that you did care either.” “Did you ever love me?” “If you did care, wouldn’t you have come back?” “The ‘Will’ I knew would have come back. Or did I ever know you?”_ “Stop. Please.” _“Did everything I know about you just end up being a part of your mask?” “Did we ever truly know the real ‘you’?” “You usually didn’t follow instructions like that. So why did you have to follow them this time?” “If you didn’t, we’d still be alive.” “But what does it matter to you?” “You never cared.” “If you cared, you would’ve come back.” “And you never came back, so . . .” **“Did you ever love me?”**_

**“** STOP! I CAME BACK! I DID! PLEASE, JUST –“

_“But you’re not. But you’re not dead, and we are. Why’s that?” “Because you ran away. You let us die, and you ran away. You didn’t even care. You didn’t even try.” “You just ran. You didn’t even look back.” “Didn’t you consider us family? I thought you did. I thought family meant something to you.” “Did you ever love me?”_ “STOP.” _“But you’re not. But you’re not dead, and we are. Why’s that?” “Because you ran away. You let us die, and you ran away. You didn’t even care. You didn’t even try.” “You just ran. You didn’t even look back.” “Didn’t you consider us family? I thought you did. I thought family meant something to you.” “Did you ever love me?” “But you’re not. But you’re not dead, and we are. Why’s that?”_ “STOP!” _“Because you ran away. You let us die, and you ran away. You didn’t even care. You didn’t even try.” “You just ran. You didn’t even look back.”_ “PLEASE! ST – STOP!” _“Didn’t you consider us family?” I thought you did. I thought family meant something to you.” “Did you ever love me?” “But you’re not. But you’re not dead, and we are. Why’s that?”_ ”NO, STOP!” _“Because you ran away. You let us die, and you ran away. You didn’t even care. You didn’t even try.” “You just ran. You didn’t even look back.” “Didn’t you consider us family? I thought you did. I thought family meant something to you.” “Did you ever love me?”_

“STOP! STOP, STOP, STOP!”

**_“Fine.”_** All those he had considered family. Why . . ? Why were they doing this to him?

_“Unlike you, we’ll come back.”_

* * *

  _‘Maybe I am dead,’ Will thought._

* * *

The ex-Ranger jerked up. Some papers were sticking to his cheek, but they fell off moments later. Light was streaming through the thin paper walls, and water could be seen dripping off the roof through the front of his door. Will spun around, looked behind him, to his sides. No one else was in the room. He was alone.

He stood up, pushed the chair away from the table, reached up towards the ceiling, and groaned as he felt his back muscles stretching. Judging from the light that was actually streaming through the paper doors, it was early morning, earlier then when he usually woke up. He looked back down on the table. The first folder’s papers were still spread across the table, while the other reasons had been hastily thrown into a pile at the corner of the table. The few papers that had been sticking to his face just happened to be the second reason . . .

The ex-Ranger snatched up the top paper, and sat himself back down. Just before he started to read, he reached across the table, grabbed his glasses, and slipped them on . . .

_So, I get the second reason, huh?_

It was Gilan. Duncan did say Gilan would be writing this one. It was nice to see that unique scrawl of his again . . .

_So, quick summary: serial killer who had some grudge on a few Rangers. Eight were killed, as you can see from the papers I sent along, and you probably already know from what Duncan said. He did say the numbers for each attack, right? But, going back to the original idea of this paragraph, I, being the usual awesome person I am, caught him before he killed another._

_So, the only reason I worked this . . . I guess you could say case, is because I was the only Ranger in the area who wasn’t dying. I also was a witness to both ends of one murder. (Truthfully, Will, I was the next person in line to be killed. I don’t have any idea how I, out of nine Rangers, was the one who survived. I should be dead.)_

_So – you know what? I’m using ‘so’ too much. Sorry. Let me try that again._

_This is what happened: I was actually returning from Castle Araluen. After the Gathering, I went back with Crowley to Araluen to make sure he gets there alright. Halt came with us, but he stayed behind with Crowley. As I was returning, I actually ran into Nick (the Ranger) as he was returning from a mission. We had been riding with each other, him and me, just talking, about, just . . . things. Things like current events. He asked how you and Halt were doing, and I said that you were sent off to Nihon-Ja, and that Halt was fine. He asked what he missed at the Gathering, and I had to tell him all about the fire, and all that. That was the first reason you read, right? Or am I giving away spoilers?_

_Either way, as we were riding, the sun went down, and it became night. We just got to his cabin, so he offered for me to stay the night. I stayed, and we had dinner and all that._

_And, in the morning, I made breakfast. For myself. Because Nick wasn’t there. He was gone._

_Now, you’re probably thinking, ‘Wait, what?’ but that’s it! He was just gone. His room was as it was, there was no sign of struggle, or anything! I knew he didn’t go out, because his cloak and bow (also quiver) was still on the pegs by the door. His cloths were still in his closet, and his knives were hanging from the inner doorknob of his bedroom. Even his boots were still by the door, next to mine. (Nick is [was, I mean] a very neat person.) That said, if he did go out, he didn’t take any weapon, didn’t change from his bedclothes, which were rather thin, or even put his shoes on. And he somehow didn’t wake me up._

_I did look around for him, but it was like he was never there. No footprints around, near, or even in a five kilometer radius. I offered the Baron of that fief to stay, until Nick came back, but they told me that they would send a messenger to Duncan, and send for me if he didn’t return for a week, or if anything turned up._

_Well, four days later a rider came for me. A . . . body had been found. A complete body, thankfully._

Will paused, suddenly unsure. Why did Gilan say ‘complete body’? **Oh.** Oh, jeez . . .

_Yeah. I know. I said ‘complete body’._

_First, you should know that I went through his papers on his desk. I found a half-written report of a ‘dark figure’ following Nick around. Apparently he had earlier told Crowley about this ‘dark figure’, so he didn’t bother completing the report. It also turned out that Crowley had told him, that others had reported a ‘dark figure’ as well._

_About the ‘complete body’ thing . . . first they found a foot. Then a hand. A whole leg, a torso, an arm (which was missing a hand), a leg (missing a foot), a head, confirming who it was, and then his other arm. Though, what was odd is that it was in that order, every single time, for all of the Rangers. Not sure if that counts as complete though . . . but we did eventually find all of him . . ._

“ _Chocho_!”

For the second time, Will jerked up. His glasses tumbled off his nose, and landed on the paper, and the paper in turn was pulled out of his fingers, and fluttered onto the floor. Shigeru, who was standing just inside the doorway, chuckled.

“Did I startle you, _Chocho_?” Shigeru’s smile widened, but this time there was concern etched in his face, “ _Chocho_ , you didn’t stay up all night, did you?”

The ex-Ranger sat there in stunned silence for a few moments, before he started to open his mouth to speak.

He didn’t know what to say. His mind was blank. What did he ask again?

He closed his mouth.

But Shigeru would want an answer. And if he didn’t respond at all, Shigeru would think he was a fool. Or something close to that. He **had** to respond.

He opened his mouth.

But what was he supposed to say, if he didn’t know the question?

He closed his mouth again, and closed his eyes.

His mind was completely blank.

“ _Chocho_ , you are doing that fishy thing you do when you have conflicting sides in your mind.”

Well, he knew how to answer **that.**

“. . . Fishy thing? What’re you talking about?” Will warily opened his eyes, saw Shigeru’s face was the usual openness and friendliness, rather than the contempt Will thought he’d seen. Will gave Shigeru the best puzzled look he had, while putting a hand up in a questioning gesture.

The Emperor smiled, and turned around. He was just about to walk out the door before he said, “You have some visitors. The servants are giving them breakfast in my gardens. Why don’t you go see them?”

“Wait, who –“ Shigeru left the room, “. . . are they?”

Will sat there, contemplating what to do for a few moments. It was probably a few of the local kids, most likely Kikori, looking for another tale of his adventures before their classes. But . . . Shigeru’s face . . . it was more than that.

But, if it was some of the kids looking for stories, they wouldn’t have sent the Emperor to get him, and wouldn’t have been sent to the gardens for breakfast. If anything, they would’ve been sent back to the school and told to go to their classes. Will got up from the table, and walked over to his changing area by his bed.

Even though Will still considered himself Araluen, and a Ranger (although, considering the circumstances, an _ex-_ Ranger), he didn’t sit around and do nothing. Plus, he could never go back to his old life and home. Not after what had happened when he had gone back earlier. So, Shigeru started to suggest things to do. The first of which was learn his language. He also learned how to use the _katana_ , and in Ito, even learned how to cook a few traditional Nihon-Ja meals. He even started to wear Nihon-Ja clothing, after a few years. He didn’t like the feeling of sticking out as a foreigner. Everyone stared at him, even when he wasn’t with the Emperor.

Since he was most likely going to the range to practice his archery after talking to his visitors, he decided to change into an ensemble more comfortable for shooting, and cared less for the people looking at him. It was a simple, sleeveless, black button-up tunic with matching pants. He slipped his rumpled shirt over his head, and threw it to the side, onto his bed. He changed his pants, dark brown trousers, to the black pair. Then he grabbed the tunic, and slipped it on. He didn’t button it up yet. He would probably go over to the _Senshi_ training grounds later on, and work with the trainee’s weapon skills, so he grabbed his belt. One side had his old Ranger double scabbard, complete with saxe and throwing knives, the other side, his _katana_. And next to that was a quiver. Four years ago, he stopped using the traditional back quiver. He didn’t completely understand **why** he did, though.

When he stepped out from behind the divider, he realized that Shigeru had also left the door open. Two serving girls were standing outside the door, giggling. Will had had a light on beside his bed, which would have thrown his shadow up against the thin divider that was between his bed and the rest of his room. The serving girls scurried away when they saw him notice them. He felt the heat grow in his cheeks, and quickly started to button up his shirt.

“After six years, you would think they would understand that I’m married.”

Will slipped out of his room. He held his shoes in one hand, and his bow in the other. After realizing what today was, Will was still hoping that he could squeeze in some shooting before Shigeru started dragging him places. Shigeru was always wanting to show Will new places, even though he’s seen practically everything in and around both the summer palace and Ito.

Outside, he had to walk past a few more private rooms before he got to the courtyard in front of the gardens. Of the five tables that were spread across the courtyard, only the one closest to the pebble garden was filled.

Three people sat around the table. Two were men, the last being a woman. One of the men had his back turned to Will, but the other two were both facing side-ways. The woman looked like she could be a few years younger than Will, while the man that sat across from her looked to be a few years older then Will. They both had darkly tanned skin. ‘They look like they could be from Arrida,’ Will thought.

The woman had a checkered white and gold scarf draped over her head, covering her hair and neck. Her face was friendly, almost motherly. Now that Will could see her face, he could see that she wasn’t just a few years younger than him, but by at least a decade. The man across from her was almost certainly the age Will predicted, with and a wispy brown beard, and an intelligent face. Both man and woman had dark brown eyes and flowing robes.

Will stopped in his tracks. They hadn’t yet seen him, but . . . what were Meissa and Hassan doing here? Meissa ib’n Talud and Hassan ib’n Talouk lived in Arrida, in a nomad tribe known as the Bedullin. What were they doing in Nihon-Ja?

_Sometime soon after you receive this letter, Meissa and Hassan will meet up with you._

Duncan had written that in his first letter. When Will first got sent to Nihon-Ja.

A servant walked up to their table. She was just about to ask them a question when . . . “Ah! _Sencho Chocho_! I did not see you! Are you looking for the Emperor?”

Will’s shoes fell to the ground.

The three around the table turned in the direction the servant was facing. Meissa had hidden not only her hair and neck with her scarf, but also a long, grotesque scar that ran from her scalp to her jaw, with it running through her eye. She was half-blind. What the hell happened to her? Hassan had burns crawling up his neck and halfway onto his cheek, making his beard patchy. There was a haunted look in his tired eyes.

The older gentleman that was sitting between them turned around. He had a grey, grizzled beard, and some messy matching grey hair. He was obviously shorter than the average person, as even sitting down Hassan seem to tower over him. His dark eyes seemed to search Will’s face. But, including the dark eyes, Will and this gentleman had one other thing in common. Will’s hand reached to his neck, where his silver oak leaf still hung, after all these years.

He could feel the tears start to swell up behind his eyes. But there was also disbelief, a giddiness, and other random emotions flying around. It started to become hard to breath.

Will took a step forward, hesitated, and then stepped back.

“Halt?”

* * *

  _‘Maybe I am dead,’ Will thought. No, he had to revise that. ‘I need to cut out the ‘maybe’.’_

_‘I am dead,’ Will thought. ‘It’s true. I truly am dead. No doubt about it.’_

* * *

  _Just as we did for the rest of the Rangers._

Halt. Why was Halt here? . . .

_We never actually caught anyone until I started to see the figure._

And Meissa and Hassan. Where have they been? They were supposed to be here six years ago . . .

_I had traveled to Castle Araluen, instead of sending in something, since that would be faster, and a lot safer. After I had spoken with Crowley and Halt, he gave me a room near his and Halt’s, so they could keep an eye on me._

And what the hell happened to them? Last time Will had seen them, they didn’t have those huge scars. Hassan didn’t have half his face burned off, and Meissa could still see out of both her eyes . . .

_And that’s when everything started._

What’s happening? . . .

_You know, after every person who has disappeared here, you’d think someone would get the clue that people are **not** safe in that castle._

With all this going on, no one is safe anywhere. Not even the dead.

Will looked up into the sky at that thought. He had gotten himself lost in Shigeru’s garden. That’s how he saw it anyway.

He didn’t want to admit what really happened. He didn’t want to admit it to himself or anyone he met on the walk. He had run away. He had gotten so scared, so terrified, that he had ran. He had ran away from an old man, a (half) blind woman, and a stable hand.

When Halt stood up and turned around to meet him, the ex-Ranger had back away another step. When Halt had responded with “Will,” he started to back away another step. And another. And another. Halt didn’t move to stop his old apprentice. And his old apprentice didn’t stop. After a few more steps, Will spun on his heels, and ran to his room. From there he had grabbed the third part to the first Reason’s folder, shoving all of the sheets he had spread across the table from that folder back into that folder, and left again. And he walked.

And that’s how he somehow managed to be in the gardens, reading the second reason, but not focusing on it. Strangely enough, Will had even climbed up a tree at the edge of the path, so anyone passing by wouldn’t see him.

The ex-Ranger shook his head, and flipped to the next sheet . . .

_So, Will, tell me, in a random situation, if the King, three knights, and two couriers disappeared, would you still consider the castle they were in safe?_

_No! Of course not! Why would anyone think so? Because, apparently, normal people don’t connect the clues like Rangers do. And Araluen was currently sadly lacking in Rangers at the moment. At least, that’s what Horace says. But he agrees with me, so did I miss Horace’s graduation into the Corps or something? He always did like that extra cloak Halt gave him . . ._

Gilan considers Horace a Ranger. Duncan disappeared, Rangers were being murdered, three knights and two couriers disappeared, and the country was pretty much turned into a wasteland. But still, so far, Gilan considering Horace a Ranger was the weirdest thing the ex-Ranger had heard so far. ‘Honestly,’ Will thought, ‘that country fell into chaos when I left,’ . . .

_Either way, as I said before, I had a room near Halt and Crowley. Yet, wherever I walked, whether it was around the outside of the castle, or inside, wandering the halls, I would sometimes catch a glimpse of someone or something following me. No one else saw it. There was even one time I was with Halt, and I saw it, and I immediately asked Halt if he saw it. He saw nothing._

_No one saw anything._

_Except me._

_No one saw the pitch black figure with a torn up cloak wrapped around them – it. Honestly, whenever I saw it, I tried to compare it to other people. It was a head taller than Horace, meaning unnaturally tall. It was also unnaturally thin as well. But it still had the human shape to it. It looked like it was wearing a cloak, but there was no opening in the front, back, or sides, from what I could see, so it was more poncho in style, but it came down to the floor like a dress. And yes, the cloak-poncho-thing was torn up, and had a cowl pulled up and over so the only thing identifiable as a face would have been in the murky shadows that covered it._

_I thought I was going crazy. But I knew Nick had seen it. And so had seven other Rangers, all with credible reports either sent in to Crowley before they were killed, or, like Nick, sitting at their desks, half finished. It was possible that it was something similar to mass hallucinations, but that wouldn’t make sense. More people would have seen it, and the sightings wouldn’t have been isolated to Rangers._

_I saw it every day for two weeks. In Nick’s report, and everyone else’s, they said they had been seeing it for about two weeks. Then they would disappear for three days, before showing up in multiple pieces around the area. When the two week mark hit, I believed I was going mad. From the stress of knowing I may or may not be torn apart and planted in the ground like a seed. From seeing looks of concern and pity from everyone who knew why I was there. From seeing that black blob in the corner of my eyes for fourteen long days._

_Honestly, Will, I didn’t even register the fourteenth day. I had been so scared out of my wits the day before, that I don’t even remember the fourteenth. I wonder if that’s how the others felt._

_Crowley and Duncan may have said that I was put on this case because I had the most information, and because I witnessed both ends of one murder. **I** may have even said that as well._

_That’s wrong._

_I was shoved onto this case because I was being targeted. I was moreover just bait to catch him, but no one said that._

_The rest of the time, I was in a sort of daze. Until the time came when it took its chances and finally came after me. That was the sixteenth day after my first sighting of it._

Will shifted his position in the tree, and felt an uncomfortable surge of concern for his lost friend. If only he had still been there. He could have helped. Maybe fewer Rangers would have died in the fire. Maybe Gilan wouldn’t have had to go through that.

Familiar voices sounded some ways down the path. Old habits kicked in, and the ex-Ranger paused. He slowly folded up the papers he had, and put them in his pocket inside his jacket. He pulled the jacket tighter around him, and put his feet up on the trunk above him. And he went still. The voices went from far away, to nearly underneath him before they stopped. But their footsteps could still be heard. It sounded as if there were just two of them, from their footsteps, both men, from their voices.

They had almost passed by before the one in lead stopped.

“Halto-san, look at this tree,” a pause, before the Emperor continued, “What do you see?”

Another pause, before the older man replied, “I see a tree, Your Excellency.”

“Anything seem . . . special . . . about this tree?”

They were speaking about the tree Will was sitting in. He didn’t move, but kept listening to the odd conversation between his old mentor, and his six-year host.

“Well, no. Not really,” Halt seemed confused. “It’s a tree. Nothing special about it.”

Will could hear the smile in Shigeru’s voice. “What kind of tree is it?”

What kind of question was that? It’s a tree! The ex-Ranger nearly considered jumping from the tree just to ask the Emperor if he had lost some of his marbles down the path somewhere.

“It’s an oak.” **Shit.**

Of all the trees he could have chosen, he chose **this** one. The one tree that Shigeru could always depend on having a Will Treaty in its branches whenever he disappeared! The one **damn** time he actually needed to be alone for a while, and his subconscious directed him here of all places. He probably would have had a better chance of staying hidden if he had gone to Shigeru’s rooms.

“Exactly.”

“I don’t see what you’re trying to point out here, Emperor.”

“When our missing friend first came here, he took a liking to walking the gardens with me,” no, “So one day, when he was walking the gardens alone, and there was no one around, he chose to climb this one,” no, “And so, whenever he runs off now, I look here in this tree before I look anywhere else,” dammit, Shigeru, “But, of course, he used to be a Ranger, and he loves climbing trees, so he usually climbs fairly high up, and I usually can’t get him down.”

Someone moved their feet, and Halt said “So you’re saying Will’s been up in that tree listening to our conversation this whole time?”

“Yes, Halto-san. Although, it is a possibility that Will knew I would lean on that information, and chose a different place. Such as my rooms, for example. He’s been found there a few times, if I recall correctly. He enjoys examining my drawings, finds it soothing. But I just wanted to show you his tree. The servants have begun to call the tree _Chocho No Ki_ , which translates roughly to ‘tree of butterflies’.”

From Will’s position in the tree, if he turned his head just a fraction to the side, he could see the two of them through the leaves. Shigeru was standing a little behind the old Ranger, staring at him curiously, while Halt looked the tree up and down. He looked much older than when Will last saw his mentor in Araluen. As he had noted before, Halt’s salt-and-pepper had gone completely grey, but he had missed the new lines etched into his face, and the tired expression that clouded his face. How old was Halt? Wouldn’t he be in his late sixties now?

Halt sighed, and turned to the Emperor. “Well, if he’s not here, we might as well go check somewhere else.” They left, and Will brought out the papers. He began to read once again . . .

_Stupidly enough, I decided to take a walk that day. By myself. In the woods. A stupid decision now that I look back on it._

_I first realized that I had made a mistake when I saw the figure multiple times within the hour. I was a few kilometers from the open ground that surrounded the castle, so I guess you could say that I could have screamed at the top of my lungs, and it would have taken the guards a few hours to find me. Yeah, I don’t think I was thinking straight that day._

_He was still wearing his poncho-cloak thingy, but now I could actually tell that the cloak was only brought around tighter, so there was a deep fold in front. That style limited his movement, but I doubt he cared. And now that I got a clear view of him, I could make out more of his face. Just his chin and lips though. And I could make out that he was, indeed, male, and not an ‘it’. I was dealing with a human being._

_And human beings can be killed._

Will hesitated to read the rest. He already knew that Gilan wouldn’t die here, but what was he about to read? And who was this man, who could watch and hide from a Ranger for two weeks and not be spotted by anyone else? Even when he was seemingly out in the open?

Sliding his feet down the trunk of the tree, he reached up and around his head, and stretched. As he brought his hands back down, he used his free hand to readjust his glasses . . .

_Even though I had that thought, Will, I still had the first one of just wanting this over. So when the cloaked man moved his hand out of the folds of his cloak, and brought out a crossbow (how had I not noticed the lump?), I didn’t move. I just stood there, waiting for the bolt to hit me. At least this guy was merciful enough to kill his victims, and then dismember them._

_By the time I saw his gloved hand tighten around the trigger, I had come to terms with my fear of death. For years and years, I was afraid of what I might find on the other side when my time finally came. If there was an ‘other side’. I still didn’t know what to expect, but I came to terms with that, and I didn’t move when he pulled the trigger._

The page ended at that, and Will’s eyes widened. ‘It better not end like that,’ he thought, as he started to page through the remaining papers. He found the last page, grumbled about how the papers seem to move themselves, and read on . . .

_I didn’t move, but Halt and Crowley did. Halt let his shot fly, and it slammed into the side of the crossbow, snapped the tight string at the same time as throwing the crossbow to the side. The bolt slammed into the tree behind me, flying too far to my right. Then Crowley came out from behind the cloaked man, and slammed the hilt of his saxe knife into the side of his head. And – pardon my profanity – he crumbled to the ground like the sack of shit he was._

_I also fell to my knees, as the realization dawned that I was nearly killed._

_And that I hadn’t been about to do anything about it._

_Apparently, even though I insisted I wanted to go alone, those two were still quite convinced that something would happen and I wouldn’t come back. That they would start to find me in bits and pieces if they didn’t stop me from going. But, of course, I was already set on going, and actually already left. And so they followed me. And when they noticed the figure coming out behind me, Halt climbed a tree, and Crowley went to sneak up behind him._

_And that, Will, is the story of how I survived when eight other Rangers hadn’t_

_And Halt, of course. I would have died years ago without him._

As the ex-Ranger was folding up Gilan’s papers to put into his pocket, satisfied with the ending, he shuffled through the papers in his mind, trying to determine which story was next. He had read through the first explanation, the fire, and Gilan’s adventure. So what did Duncan say was next?

The poison. Corocore. Three . . . no four Rangers hadn’t been given the proper medical treatment, and they had died from the poison. He was actually still confused with how it worked . . . Lord Syron had taken forever to die, almost until the siege. Yet Lord Orman was nearly dead when they finally got him to Malcolm. Of course, he didn’t know the exact dates that both of them were poisoned, but Orman was fine the day before, when he had ridiculed Will from not knowing any classics on the mandola. So, that meant it was a complicated poison with an easy antidote that not many people knew about. The antidote was easy, Will assumed, because Malcolm had given it to Orman almost immediately . . . but that’s also assuming that the poisons used on Syron and Orman were the same poison. Syron lingered for days, while it seemed to work through Orman much faster. Malcolm also only said corocore for Orman. He never actually confirmed anything for Lord Syron, meaning it could have been anything not in the normal texts for healers.

Will looked up into the branches above him. Was there an actual reason why he was always drawn to this tree? Because it was an oak, and it reminded him of the home he lost? Of the home he was likely to never see again? No. Because it reminded him of the tree Halt had made him sleep in when he first sang _Greybeard Halt_. . .

_Duncan briefed you on all of these, did he not? Meaning you know about them, but you don’t know what actually happened? He told you the fiefs the poisonings took place in too, right? Sorry, I’m getting quite senile in my old age . . . I can’t believe I just wrote that. If you tell Halt I said that, I will kill you myself. I may be old and senile, but I can still draw my bow._

_Either way, each fief, Norgate, Caraway, Salkire, and Seacliff, lost their Ranger from poison. North, east, south, west. Your friend, Malcolm, confirmed the symptoms to corocore. Does that mean anything to you? I sent people out to each fief, but they couldn’t find anything . . . although, a Ranger going through Whitby caught something, which turned out to be corocore. He luckily got the right help in time, and survived._

_But, including Whitby to the list . . . that means, north, east, south, west, and central. What does that mean to you, Mr. Treaty?_

What did that mean to him? Six years ago, it would have meant that the enemy was showing their power. They could infiltrate and kill highly trained individuals and get away with it at all corners of the kingdom. And just in case the people in charge still didn’t get it, they sent someone to kill in the dead center of the kingdom as well.

Now, six years later, it meant that they were going to be victorious from the very beginning. This wasn’t the type of war Araluen was used to, no. They were used to an enemy they could see, an army on their land. This war – this was a war against shadows. There was no actual army to fight. People just dropped dead, for all they knew. When they were too weak and confused to fight back was when the army came . . .

_It means we are going to get slaughtered. That’s it. I said it. We are doomed._

Will closed his eyes. They knew it from the beginning. They knew, and kept at it. Kept fighting. That’s the Araluen spirit.

“ _Chocho_.” His eyes snapped open. Very slowly, hoping that it was his imagination, he looked downwards, straight down the trunk to the ground. Shigeru was looking up into the tree, directly by the base of the tree. Halt was standing a few meters away, talking with a _Senshi_ , Reito, by his looks. They didn’t seem to notice that Shigeru had wandered underneath the tree.

Knowing that he wouldn’t be able to stay hidden up there forever, the ex-Ranger slipped the papers back into his jacket, and turned in his seat. He quickly and quietly crawled down the trunk until he was only a meter above Shigeru’s head. He doubted that the Emperor could see him, but Shigeru’s neutral expression quickly spread out a smile. “ _Chocho_ , I realize that this may be overwhelming, but please, come down from there,” he whispered.

A mirthless smile spread out on Will’s features. He knew he would have to face them sooner or later. His eyes went from Shigeru, to his mentor and father. As he had noticed before, Halt seemed to have doubled in age in the years they’ve been separated. His face was etched with lines, and his hair had faded to all grey. There were even some grey faded to white. Reito walked away, and Halt turned back to Shigeru. “Your Excellency, is there a reason we came back here? I thought you said Will wouldn’t be here.”

Shigeru smiled up at the tree, before turning back to Halt. “But Halto-san, I never said that he wasn’t. I just said it wasn’t plausible.” Halt looked unconvinced. Shigeru’s smiled widened, and turned back towards the tree. He called out in Nihon-Jan, “Why don’t you come down now, _Chocho_?” Will hesitated. He wanted to speak with his mentor, but . . . but he was afraid. He’d had nearly four years of peace, only to be dragged back into this, and he was terrified. He knew Halt would try and drag him back into that life, the life as an Araluen Ranger, where people died daily and you were expected not to care.

Will looked up. The sun was shining through the leaves and branches and threw dappled shadows all around, which he had been using to his advantage. Something he learned to do as a Ranger. As a Ranger. Will shifted his gaze to the trunk of the tree. Just limiting his vision to that, he could almost imagine that he was back in Araluen, his home, before that ‘ _war against shadows’_ , as he had thought of it earlier.

As a Ranger, Will learned the difference between killing and murder. He learned kill, or be killed, to sum it all up. So why . . .

Will sat up. Just because it turned out Halt was alive didn’t mean he had to think about **that.** Just because Halt was here didn’t mean he meant to drag him back into **that** , either. _Chocho_ turned in his seat again, and let his feet dangle above Shigeru’s head. The Emperor politely stepped out of his way as he dropped cat-like to the ground. To the ground . . . and in front of Halt.

The old Ranger’s eyebrows raised in surprise. Halt hadn’t actually believed Shigeru, about the possibility of Will being up in the tree. Will would know how to avoid people he didn’t want to see, and would utilize that knowledge. But the Emperor had given him a sad, yet knowing look, and insisted that they went back to the tree. Apparently, Will even knew how to avoid someone in the most obvious place.

Shigeru looked between Halt, and the man who had finally become a normal part of his life, and nodded slowly. He had a feeling that no matter the outcome of this conversation, Will would be leaving. He nodded again, and smiled at the pair. “I will leave you two for now. Halto-san, I hope you will consider joining us for dinner tonight.

Halt nodded. “Of course, Your Excellency.”

Shigeru left.

And Will watched him go. He could feel Halt’s curious gaze on him, but ignored it. They would talk when he was ready, and no sooner. He had a feeling Halt was willing to go along with that, and for a while, the reasoning for that feeling eluded him. Until, after having snatched a quick glance towards his father, it came to him. Halt had done the same thing with him when they were both Rangers back in Araluen. Both when he was an apprentice and graduated. Halt (and sometimes Crowley) would test his patience by sitting silently for some time. Will had always passed those tests, except in the early years. But now, the test was switched. Instead, the apprentice was testing the master.

Shigeru had been lost to sight for a good minute or so. As Will realized that, he quietly swore to himself in Nihon-Jan. Then, muttered even more curses under his breath as he realized that there was really no reason why he should be swearing. He turned, and walked to opposite way that Shigeru had gone. Shigeru had went to leave the gardens, but going the other direction would take them deeper. Also, at this time of the day, most people would be working, or at least in school. No one should actually be around except servants, and even their trips into the gardens were bound to be few and far between. The deeper they went, the more isolated they would be . . . that was a good thing, right?

Will shook his head, and kept walking. Halt had fallen into step next to him, aware of his discomfort, and therefore a few steps further from Will’s side than what he normally would have been.

They walked in silence.

_But do not worry. Halt is as stubborn as ever, and isn’t one of the perished._

Will stopped. Those letters were supposed to be six years old.

_I am also sorry to say, that out of the original fifty, only four remain. Yes, only four of your friends survived._

Halt stopped next to his apprentice, and was waiting patiently. Will slowly turned to look at Halt, face-on. He wanted to see Halt’s eyes. Always so dark and threatening, yet comforting. He looked different with the grey hair, but the eyes were the same.

There was a question Will needed to ask. He opened his mouth to ask, but hesitated. Halt wouldn’t understand. He wouldn’t understand why he was asking that question, and he would ask more questions and then he would have to face everything – **everything.** Will snapped his mouth shut. It made a loud _clop_ sound. Oh, **come on.**

Halt chuckled.

The blood rushed to his face, and Will quickly turned away.

“No! Will, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to . . . offend you.” Halt reached out cautiously, yet hopefully, towards Will. “Will . . . I . . . I just need to know if you’ll be okay?”

Halt was different. He was older, of course, but he wasn’t the same. He seemed more cautious, more reserved. Less gruff then what he had been. Less . . . less Halt.

Will shook his head again, and kept his back to Halt. His mentor sighed, angry with himself that he’d pushed Will away just when they were about to start talking. Will didn’t notice. He was too busy berating himself for not realizing that, of course, having gone through what he had, that Halt **would** be different. Will knew what he, himself, had gone through, and also knew he was changed because of it. It should have been obvious that Halt would be changed as well.

He turned back to Halt. “Oh,” Will murmured. Their eyes met, and somewhat of an understanding passed between them. Halt nodded, and Will smiled a little sheepishly. “It’s fine . . . Halt. It’s fine,” Will’s smiled faded a little. There was an unsure, hesitant look in his eyes, and Halt had a feeling that it wouldn’t go away for quite some time.

* * *

_Really, there’s nothing to this except files. I sent four different Rangers to the different fiefs, and here are their official reports. And then I got a report from the Ranger who got poisoned in Whitby . . . Whitby. Right . . . yeah. Eh, oh well, I’ll tell you about that later._

Will glanced at the papers in his lap. He was secretly glad that he had been placed to the left of Shigeru, in his usual spot, and that everyone else had been placed in their usual spots. Meaning that Halt wasn’t sitting next to him. He was sitting diagonally to the left from him, down and across the table. Meaning Halt couldn’t see the official Ranger papers he brought with him tonight. Will, sensing Halt distracted as he shifted his seating (apparently, his old knees still didn’t completely agree with the traditional Nihon-Ja style), seized his opportunity and shifted the papers so they were on the right side of the ceramic plate, and no longer on his lap. Honestly, it probably looked like he was staring at his crotch for some time. Next to him, Shigeru glanced at the papers curiously. He smiled his usual knowing smile, and turned to speak to Reito, on his right. He didn’t give the papers a second thought, knowing what they were, and knowing that Will had an adequate distraction for the rest of the night.

Will idly reached out with his chopsticks for the meat on his plate. Usually, on good days, the ex-Ranger would sometimes take part in the conversations around the table, and on bad, he would sit back, and listen – or wouldn’t even come at all. So, after four years, the people at the table were used to Will’s peculiarities. It honestly wasn’t the first time he had brought something to read to dinner, so everyone left him alone. Sneaking a glance at Halt before he started to read again, he noticed that his mentor was speaking with another foreigner. ‘Right,’ he thought, ‘the embassy from . . .’ Will looked once more at the embassy, and noticed that sitting on his other side were Meissa and Hassan. ‘Did the embassy come with them? I don’t recognize him . . . do I?’

He looked back down to his papers, telling himself that, no, he didn’t recognize him. Nope. Not one bit . . .

_Ranger: S. Cambri_

_Ranger #: 37_

_Fief: Caraway_

_ Reasoning behind assignment (to be filled by superior): _

_Four Rangers were poisoned in four different/separate fiefs, and require investigation. The poison has been identified as a previously unknown type, corocore. Discretion is advised._

_And just don’t do anything stupid. Figure it out, then get the hell out of there._

_-Crowley Meratyn_

_ Specific orders (to be filled by superior): _

_Just one: Our friend Malcolm wishes to compare blood samples with the four other cases. I am aware that the Baron in Caraway is holding off on burying Clarke, so get a blood sample. Not too much is needed, but I gave you the vial to put the sample in. Do not lose it._

_ Report/Findings (to be filled after assignment/mission is completed): _

_Overall, I didn’t find nothing. Meaning, I found something. Meaning, I found more than nothing, so I don’t understand why people use the first saying so often. See, Crowley, I’m trying to waste your time with this. That is what it was essentially. A waste of time. And here’s why:_

_When I got to Caraway, everything was normal, as it should be. Except for Clarke being dead. I first headed to his cabin, and went through his papers, checking for anything that could or would send people after his head. Except everything was as it should be. No threatening letter, no random maps, no papers on slave rings, or even murders. His cabin was . . . oddly clean. No papers were out anywhere, not on the table or the desk, or even in his room – which was, by the way, the cleanest thing I’d ever seen. How can people stay that clean? It was literally, and I am not exaggerating on this, spotless. There was nothing in his hidden compartment, which was a little surprising and very suspicious._

_So, no papers means no fief business. It could also mean no personal business. With those two options crossed off, that only meant one thing: the war._

_With clearing that business up, I went to Castle Caraway. Your weird friend, who honestly looks a lot like a bird, had asked for a blood sample, and it was also mentioned in the ‘specific orders’ section. I got your blood sample. It was sent in with this report. And, since I have a feeling you would ask if I didn’t include it, there was nothing suspicious going on at the castle. Everything was normal._

_Nothing else to report._

_ In conclusion: _

_Yes, Ranger Clarke was murdered in cold blood._

_There were no leads as to who, unfortunately._

Will vaguely remembered Clarke. He also remembered Cambri, whose first name was actually Samson. Samson Cambri was one of the more decent Rangers. He would sometimes join Will and the others at their little fire during the Gathering. It would only be brief, as he was usually eager to meet up with his fiancé Terence, but he was welcomed. One time, he convinced Gilan to try cayenne pepper in his coffee, rather than the usual honey. Since then, Gilan had been trying to get back at Sam.

After glancing at Halt, he shuffled the papers, moving Sam’s report to the bottom. The ex-Ranger’s eyes wandered over to look at the embassy. ‘I know him,’ he told himself. But at the same time, something else convinced him that he didn’t. That he didn’t **want** to. The man, who had been in deep conversation with Halt, suddenly paused, and his eyes flicked away from Halt, and met gazes with Will. His eyes were a piercing blue the bore into him.

The way Will was sitting was what saved him from talking with them. He was slouched over the table, cheek slumped in his left hand. His head was bent over the table, so it looked like he was staring at his plate. His right hand held chopsticks, which were currently refraining from picking up food, and were instead tapping a tune on the edge of his plate.

He watched the embassy through the strands of his hair. Halt noticed the man’s change in gaze, and turned to follow his eyes. Through the clamor of the dining hall, Will could just barely hear the few words of Araluen amongst the Nihon-Jan when Halt spoke.

“Do you know him?”

Just then, Shigeru finished telling the fishing joke to Reito and everyone else who had gathered around to hear. Reito hadn’t been around to hear about it when it first happened, so of course he had to hear about it this day. Mostly everyone in the space around Shigeru and Reito exploded in laughter, amazed at the audacity of the lone fisherman. Will couldn’t hear the delegate’s response.

_Once_. The man’s mouth moved, slowly. Deliberately, even. _A few years back, we met very briefly._ His mouth curled into a near inhumane sneer, and Will realized this man knew he was being watched. A familiar sensation burned his cheeks, and he shifted his position, moving his hand from his cheek. As he moved, setting the chopsticks down on his plate, a servant came to collect his plate, and Will slipped the folded papers into his jacket as she nimbly reached over Will’s shoulder. Sure that no one had seen his movements while the waitress was moving around him, he quietly thanked her, and she was gone.

He stood up from the table, and excused himself, bowing to the Emperor. Sure, they had an everyday casual relationship, but for the sake of Shigeru’s appearance, (especially in the presence of foreign officials, no matter how creepy) Will made sure to keep up the façade of having a strictly political relationship. Only a select few people actually knew Will’s reason for being at Shigeru’s side, but everyone else was told it was for ‘securing political relations’.

As he was exiting the hall, someone else excused themselves, and followed him out. Meissa.

* * *

  _Ranger: T. Smith_

_Ranger #: 17_

_Fief: Norgate_

_ Reasoning behind assignment (to be filled by superior): _

_Four Rangers were poisoned in four different/separate fiefs, and require investigation. The poison has been identified as a previously unknown type, corocore. Discretion is advised._

_And just don’t do anything stupid. Figure it out, then get the hell out of there._

_-Crowley Meratyn_

_ Specific orders (to be filled by superior): _

_Just one: Our friend Malcolm wishes to compare blood samples with the four other cases. I am aware that the Baron in Norgate is holding off on burying Sam, so get a blood sample. Not too much is needed, but I gave you the vial to put the sample in. Do not lose it._

_ Report/Findings (to be filled after assignment/mission is completed): _

_They had already buried Sam by the time I got there, Crowley. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. Thankfully, someone named Orman apparently knew Malcolm at one point, and insisted that the present healer take a blood sample before Sam was buried. Just a small stroke of luck, I guess._

_I kept my presence unknown for a little while before I went in, mainly because when we spoke, you seemed pretty adamant that I stayed cautious. I searched Sam’s cabin thoroughly; I went through his papers, went through the hidden compartment, checked any other place I could think of (which included places such as: under his bed, in his cubby closet, in his spare bedroom’s cubby closet, and under both beds) and only found a few things of interest._

_The first was information on a Scotti raid. Apparently this one was especially violent, and was directed at a larger village than normal. It happened several months ago, and was cleared. The second was a series of thefts in the far south-west of the fief. The thief had been identified but hadn’t been caught yet. The third, was a copy of a report he had sent into you, detailing his investigation into Clarke’s death._

_When I finally checked in at the castle, I received the blood sample, and asked around a bit. Nothing was especially wrong. At the end of that day, I went up to the Baron’s office and asked what he knew about the Scotti raid. It had been completely cleared months ago, and shouldn’t be posing any problems. I also checked the thief out. His name was Callaghan Callaway, or CC for short. I looked into him. He was killed in an attempt to steal a lady’s jewels, but apparently the lady had a dagger hidden . . . he apparently had been dead for some time._

_Nothing else to report._

_ In conclusion: _

_Ranger Samson was killed in cold blood._

_There are no other leads as to who or why, other than the ones I searched personally._

Will paused on the track, and shoved the rest of the roll into his mouth, before continuing on his way. He’d snatched a few from when he was passing by the kitchens. He was almost positive Akira, the waitress who’d cleared away his plate, had purposely left them unattended. He was also positive that it was Akira and one of her friends who’d been giggling while he had been changing the other day.

He shuffled Terry’s report to the bottom of his small pile of papers, and, before starting the next one, thought over the events in the report he just finished. Ranger Samson, the same Ranger that had sent in the first report, was the victim in the second report. Sam’s death also had been investigated by his fiancé, Terry. There had always been close relations within the Corps, like Will, Gilan, and Halt, but sometimes relations got closer than that. What bothered Will about Terry investigating Sam’s death was their relationship. Usually, if a case regarded someone close in any Ranger’s life, that Ranger was kept away from the investigation, but updated regularly. It was out of character and against the rules for Crowley to make that type of mistake.

And, now that he thought about it, taking Terry’s and Sam’s engagement into consideration, the fact that Terry shouldn’t have been allowed to investigate Sam’s death, and how close they actually were . . . Will thought back. Back to the last Gathering he was able to attend, which happened to be two years before the war started. That year, Sam proposed to Terry, and they had been extremely close. At the time, if one of them were to die, the other would have been devastated. More than that even. Terry wrote with barely any emotion, and only showed evidence of knowing him at all by the familiar name usage.

There was something else off with these reports, but at the moment, he couldn’t place it. His memory was terrible these days . . . it wasn’t how they were structured, or written, other than what he had already thought of, but . . . Will shrugged. Maybe he was taking this all too seriously. These were five or six year old reports, written when he was already gone. Anything could have happened during the time of his absence; Terry and Same could have broken their engagement for all he knew. Maybe he was just uncomfortable investigating his ex’s murder . . .

_Ranger: A. Walker_

_Ranger #: 14_

_Fief: Salkire_

_ Reasoning behind assignment (to be filled by superior): _

_Four Rangers were poisoned in four different/separate fiefs, and require investigation. The poison has been identified as a previously unknown type, corocore. Discretion is advised._

_And just don’t do anything stupid. Figure it out, then get the hell out of there._

_-Crowley Meratyn_

_ Specific Orders (to be filled by superior): _

_Just one: Our friend Malcolm wishes to compare blood samples with the four others cases. I am aware that the Baron in Salkire is holding off on burying Terry, so get a blood sample. Not too much is needed, but I gave you the vial to put the sample in. Do not lose it._

_ Report/findings (to be filled after assignment/mission is completed: _

_When I arrived, the normal thing for me to do would have been to go to the Ranger’s cabin. The thing is, this time that was out of the question. Apparently, according to Baron Silas, a few days before I arrived there was a riot in protest to the war. Knowing that the Ranger was dead, the citizens decided to burn down his cabin. I found the smoldering remains myself before heading to the castle to ask for an explanation and the blood sample. Although . . . to be honest, Crowley, it looked as if both the Baron and the citizens thought Terry was . . . to be blunt, a piece of trash. They hated him, from the looks of it. Now, I couldn’t tell if it was because he was gay, or if it was because of his occupation, but Terry was not liked in Salkire, and the citizens apparently burned down his cabin as a sort of ‘bonfire party’ sort of thing. That just . . . disgusts me._

_From what I could get from the Baron and his Battlemaster, the only thing suspicious going on was war-related. Riots, protests, a few bar fights, and even enemy support meetings. I didn’t understand what he meant from the last one until Baron Silas stated it as the citizen’s readying themselves to support the enemy when it came time. I’m still confused as to why they wanted to support the enemy._

_I was able to obtain the blood sample, and it is enclosed with this report . . . somewhere._

_ In conclusion: _

_Salkire fief has practically fallen into anarchy. I doubt the chaos has anything to do with Terence’s death, but the citizens might have had something to do with it. By the way, Crowley, if you ever send me to Salkire again, I will quit._

Terence? Terry? Terry Smith. Engaged to Sam Cambri, the Ranger who had been murdered in the previous report. And Terence, the victim in this report had investigated the previous report. Sam investigated Clarke’s murder, but Terry investigated Sam’s, and Alan investigated Terry’s. Did that mean another Ranger would be investigating Alan’s murder? It was one huge bloody circle of murder . . . 

Which shouldn’t have been possible. Not with how Crowley worded the beginning of each report. He –

“Will?”

The ex-Ranger’s arms jerked out of surprise, and his bundle of papers went up in the air. He let people sneak up on him too often these days. Meissa ib’n Talud stood directly in front of him, arms across, and body held in a confident posture. A quizzical smile was spread across the side of her face that wasn’t stiff with the new scar across her eye. The two of them stared at each other, long after each sheet had fluttered to the ground in around them. Will didn’t notice the sheets that had fallen into the small pond next to them.

With his hands still holding the papers that were no longer there, Will quickly estimated the time. Technically, Meissa should still be attending the banquet. Being an ‘embassy’, as Shigeru claimed the three newcomers to be, she should have been obligated to stay the entire time to keep up the show. He had been allowed to leave because . . . well, he’d always been allowed to leave. He’d never really thought about it.

As Meissa bent down to collect the papers, Will’s surprise started to fade. He let his arms drop, and he started blankly down at Meissa, until she lifted her head towards him. Her smile broadened, and she lifted a handful of papers to him, staying crouched in front of him.

Heat crawled up his face when he heard giggling, and he turned to see a few teenage Nihon-Jan down an adjacent path. From the angle they were looking from, Meissa would almost seem to be . . . panic surged up his throat. They thought she was . . . Will snatched at Meissa’s wrist, practically dragging her to her feet, a bundle of papers clutched in her other hand. Spinning her around, he removed his grip on her wrist, and moved it up to her elbow. From that, he began to guide her back down the trail, trying to ignore the growing guffaws down at the other end of the path. Neither of them noticed the papers still floating in the retention pond behind them.

Meissa let herself be pushed down the footpath for a few moments, just long enough for her surprise to fade, and her annoyance to set in.

She yanked her elbow out of Will’s grasp, and spun to face him. “Y’know, I didn’t come here to be pushed around by you, Treaty! I was just trying to help!” She slapped the papers against his chest angrily. And glared up at him. If Will remembered correctly, that had always been something he liked about Meissa. Not her quick anger, like her grandfather, which either came as red hot rage that was usually hard to quench, a cold, quiet, rage that was probably a thousand times worse than her red rage, or an amusingly small amount. What he liked was the anger **paired with her height**. Meissa ib’n Talud had been one of the few people that Will had known who’d been shorter than himself. Yes, she was an extremely dangerous person to seriously anger, but somehow, her height always made it amusing. And laughing at her had caused more than a few people to lose some limbs.

Will caught the papers as she prepared for another swing. “Honestly, Meissa, what do you want? You should still be in the banquet with Hassan and Halt.”

The anger flared on her face. “Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Treaty. I already get enough of that from my grandfather. Why can’t I leave and you can? Hmmm? It’s not like I’m an actual official.”

“But to most people in that room, you are. What do you want?”

She squared her shoulder, and released the papers. Crossing her arms once again, she glared up at Will. “It’s about that war that chased you out of your home. Now, I don’t know what you know, but . . .”

* * *

 Will slumped down onto the couch. Upon walking into his room, he’d slapped the pile of papers down onto the table, next to the package he had left partway open on the table top. The papers in the pile were jumbled together, out of order, and some of them dampened by their brief contact with the ground. He’d noticed a few of the papers had running ink, and one of them had even been ripped. Sighing, he’d discovered that he really didn’t have the energy to sort out the papers at the moment.

When Will had walked into the dining hall earlier, and sat down next to Shigeru, the Emperor had leaned over and whispered “I spoke with Halto-san, and I invited him to join me after this meal. Would it be acceptable with you if I brought him to your rooms?” Will, being completely distracted with reading the first of the reports, agreed, not realizing what he was agreeing to. He also didn’t notice Shigeru’s surprised expression when his proposal was agreed to.

The ex-Ranger ran his hands through his hair, roughly pulling out a loose pony-tail he had put in for dinner. Grumbling to himself, he laid down, and draped an arm over his face.

If Meissa had been telling the truth, then the connections he had made back to Iqbal were false. The entire war had nothing to do with the Makalis or the ib’n Taluds. Apparently, Duncan’s claim that Iqbal started this war as a grudge match was wrong, but his explanation as to Iqbal Makali **himself** were correct – he had been alive. Meissa admitted that, yes, when the two of them met, Iqbal was alive, and while the original plan Will foiled was Iqbal’s, due to the plan’s failure, he was later executed. It would be impossible for the former Aseikh to have started a war years after he’d been formally executed.

But then who started the war? Who had control over the inhumane . . . humans that had slaughtered half of the Araluen population, and made the once beautiful land into a place horrifyingly desolate? Who had that kind of power? Was it some type of grudge?

As Will’s mind drifted from one question to the next, the fact that his mind had something to focus on, and was actually working on it, soothed his usually troubled mind. As he looked at each question, turning each of them over and inside-out, a certain routine was defined. One that he hadn’t used in years. He never noticed though, and he eventually dozed off.

**_“D I D   Y O U   E V E R   L O V E   M E?”_ **

Will flung his arm away from his face. Immediately, his elbow slammed into the back of the couch he was lying on. Not knowing what his elbow collided with, as he was in a haze of sleep, he panicked. Seconds after hitting his arm on the couch, his other arm came up instinctively, and pushed whatever it was away from him. As the couch was a bit too heavy to be pushed away, Will pushed himself away. And onto the floor. Having only been awake for approximately five seconds, he was already lying on the floor, face down. Earlier, when he was still asleep, he **had** been sleeping peacefully, for once, but that voice . . . it sounded as if it was right next to his ear.

As he rolled over and sat up, the ex-Ranger took stock of his situation. From the looks of it, it was still the middle of the night. Meaning, that it probably wouldn’t be the best idea to take a walk, unless he wanted a guard following him. ‘Or,’ he reasoned, ‘I could always just sneak past them.’ It also probably wasn’t wise to go get food from the kitchens . . . His eyes landed on the small package at the edge of the table across the room. Even though the small sitting area was in a dip, sitting lower than the rest of the room, he could still see the small pile of papers he’d left lying out on the table next to it . . . although it did seem smaller than what he remembered.

He paused, momentarily forgetting the package. Hadn’t Shigeru mentioned something about bringing Halt around so they could talk? That would have been hours ago.

Oh well.

Will stood up, rather stiffly, and made his way around the couch to his table. With nothing else to do, it was an obvious choice as to what he should do until the rest of the Summer Palace community started to wake themselves up. He sat down and picked up his jumbled pile of papers. He’d only ended up reading about half of what of what he’d brought – the entire fourth reason, which really only contained five reports and a short letter. He’s also brought the entire fifth reason, keeping it in a separate bundle from the fourth.

Will began organizing the papers by first separating the fourth and fifth reasons. Easy enough, considering the fifth was still sitting securely in its folder, while the fourth was the one that had papers go flying. Except . . . Will paused. In his hand, he held four reports. Four reports, from the fourth reason. On the table in front of him was a single report, and a short letter.

Nothing else. He only had the fourth reason.

Despair flooded through his body. He’d lost an entire folder. An entire **reason.** How? How could he have done that? Was he really that stupid? How – Meissa. She picked up the papers.

He rested his face in his hands. He forced himself to breath. He’d been having panic attacks a lot more often, and it bothered him. He hated how he felt during them, panicked and afraid, and how the attacks made him feel afterwards, drained and embarrassed. He hated it, and even though it felt good to get the tears out every once and a while, they drained him as well. He had to breathe. Focus on something else. Focus on something positive.

Halt is alive. That’s good, right? His father, back from the dead. Except, it scared him as well. If Halt was alive, who else was? Who was actually dead? He’d finally gotten on terms with them all being dead, but now everything was back on uncertain ground.

Focus on something else, stupid.

Will looked down to the papers he dropped back on the table. The five reports and short letter of the fourth reason. He didn’t have to guess. A new Ranger would be investigating Alan’s death in the fourth report. As he thought before, the entire fourth reason was completely impossible. If all the poisonings happened at the same time, which did happen based on how Crowley started each of the reports, a Ranger wouldn’t be able to investigate one of the murders, and still be a victim in another poisoning. It’s impossible. And, also based off how Crowley started each report, it also goes to say that each Ranger would have been sent out at about the same time, further making it impossible for being an investigator and a victim at the same time.

Although he already knew what the fifth report would basically be saying, he was still curious as to who the unknown Ranger was. As he looked down, the ex-Ranger noted that more than half the report was water damaged. Most of the ink had run across the page, obliterating practically everything. Except for the usual details at the top . . .

_Ranger: G. Davidson_

_Ranger #: 34_

_Fief: Whitby_

G. Davidson. Gilan. After nearly being killed by the maniac in the tattered cloak?

Will tipped the chair, and lifted his feet up to the table. The other reports were ruined to the extent of Gilan’s, meaning that he’d never get to read who investigated Alan’s death.

‘I’ll just have to go find the other file,’ he thought, shrugging.

Back in Shigeru’s rock gardens, back where he had had that mishap with Meissa, Will stared down at the retention pond. The folder itself was opened flat on the ground, its leather brown color blending into the dirt that was around the pond. He already had low hopes that any of the papers actually survived the fall, and didn’t make it into the pond, but he had to check. Bending down, the ex-Ranger rested a hand on the folder. He picked up the flimsy folder, which was basically just a scrap of tanned leather with a tie around it to keep it shut. Evidently, the tie had snapped.

There was a single paper lying on the ground, face down. Will, taking into account his usual run of bad luck, didn’t expect much, even after seeing the single on the ground next to the other ten or so in the water. He flipped the sheet over.

The sheet was covered in grime, and had been close enough to the water to get partially damp. None of the writing was smeared too badly, but there were definitely some parts which would require some study . . .

_. . . bodies had been laid in a rough circle around those blasted stones. I don’t mean to be too graphic here, but seriously! Their organs were in plain sight, with their innards literally strewn around them. The others that weren’t like that had so many slashes across their bodies, it was really had to imagine that a person would do something like that, let alone disemboweling someone. At least, from the looks of it, all of them were killed within the first stroke, and didn’t suffer._

_What bothered me the most was that there was a campfire in the middle of that circle of death, with signs that someone had actually made a camp there. In the middle of those bodies. Probably while some of them were still alive, in my own opinion, even though it’s said the Rangers didn’t suffer. While all of the equipment and people were gone, they hadn’t extinguished their fire. It was just burning down to the coals too. My first thought at seeing that was, why coal? (That is when I realized that, well, we are in the middle of a plain. The only thing you can burn would be brush or thickets.) When I got closer to the fire, which to do so, I had to walk between two bodies, I noticed something rather . . . odd._

_The coals had a silver-ish coloring to them. As I got closer? Seven Ranger oak leaves had been thrown into the coal fire, and were actually scolded horribly. The chains were completely black, and the oak leaves themselves weren’t in too good of shape either . . ._

Will wasn’t to realize it, but the moment he read: _The others that weren’t like that had so many slashes across their bodies_. . . , his face had gone white. His free had unconsciously crept up his left shoulder.

Was it him? Had he done this to Will’s friends?

His hand went to his opposite hip. The damage the sword had done to the bone could still be seen, through the skin, unlike his shoulder. His shoulder showed no signs of uneven bone healing, but if you felt for it, you would find it easily. Other than that, all you could see of a previous injury at all was a dark, ragged scar. The dark scar started deep in his left shoulder, and ended by nearly shattering his right hip.

* * *

  _“Technically, you shouldn’t be able to walk Ranger Will, and it’s truly—“_

_“Don’t call me that.”_

_“W—what?”_

_“Don’t call me Ranger Will. Just – just continue with whatever you were saying.”_

_“Oh, well . . . well, it’s truly a miracle that you can walk without any sign of a limp. Your friend Malcolm did an amazing job. Though, maybe . . .”_

* * *

 He took a deep breath. He dropped his hand from his hip.

Will folded up the remaining paper of the fifth folder, and slipped it inside his shirt. Before he stood up, he glanced out at the pond, which had a good percentage filled with paper. None of the ink would still be readable, let alone still on the papers. He wouldn’t even be able to pick up the papers without them falling apart between his fingers.

To his sides, the paths were clear. Behind him, and on the other side of the pond as well. It was still rather early in the morning, and the only people who would be awake at this hour wouldn’t be headed into the gardens. He looked back out at the pond, and all the paper floating in the greenish water.

His shoes weren’t too troubling to take off, or rather that important, so he kicked of the cloth slippers, and set them at the edge of the path. He rolled up his loose pants up to his knees, and stood up. The water would be freezing this early in the morning.

Will stifled a groan, and slipped off his jacket as well, discarding that near his shoes.

Stepping into the water sent a shock of cold up his bare legs, and he felt goosebumps travel across his body. This time, he didn’t silence his groan as he bent down and started fishing in the ice cold water for the papers.

And, of course, the water had been deeper than he expected, and when he finally started on his way back to his room, his pants were soaked halfway up his thigh. He’d left the ruined paper in the care of an early-rising servant, who wouldn’t take ‘I can get rid of this myself, don’t worry,’ as an answer. He carried his shoes in his hand, and his jacket flung over his shoulder, and surprisingly, he actually had a genuine, while rather mirthless, smile on his face.

* * *

  _After everything that had been going on with the Rangers, from the forest fire, all the way to whatever went on in the Solitary Plains, everyone was . . . jumpy. To the extreme. So, I devised a grand plan to gather all the remaining Rangers. At the time, the Ranger Corps came up to a dandy twenty. We had lost thirty Rangers, and no one was in the mood for their usual jokes._

_It literally killed me to see so few green-grey cloaks gathered. By then, pretty much all the Rangers had dismissed their apprentices, and the few that remained were left at Castle Araluen, assisting the knights and warriors that still lived or hadn’t quit._

_At the time, I thought getting together and actually thinking this through with all the remaining Rangers was a great idea. The last of us, the last twenty, readying ourselves to defend our country, and our Princess Regent._

_We thought – **I** thought that the location of where we met was Ranger knowledge only. I’m almost one hundred percent sure that Duncan knew, but . . . well, he’s been missing for quite a while now, so everyone has just assumed he’s dead. Cassandra’s title of Princess Regent was only temporary. Being time of war, no one really had time for a coronation. Everyone knew she was Queen, with Horace as her consort. _

_Either way, we were all talking about our own experiences, gathering information as we did. Gilan was sulking in the corner, not taking interest in anything we were saying. Halt was half passed out next to me, exhausted from the constant movement and little breaks. Even the best can only go on for so long._

_Suddenly . . . suddenly, Gilan shot up in his seat. His saxe knife was already flying across the room by the time the other Rangers got their bows or knives out. A man in the hallway, which had been directly opposite of Gilan, mine, and Halt’s side of the table, jerked back and crumpled to the floor. A crossbow clattered to the ground next to him._

_And then – chaos._

A shiver ran up Will’s spine. Not from the freezing water that was still dripping from his rolled up pants, nor the partially cracked door, to let in a morning breeze, but from the somber feeling in Crowley’s writing. From his realization that Duncan had said in the beginning that fifteen Rangers died this time. Fifteen Rangers of the twenty remaining died.

Before, when he had opened the door, he’d dropped his shoes on the mat next to his boots and slippers, and threw the jacket on the table. He ignored the slippers, ignored his sopping pants, and sat down at the table. He’d slipped the remaining paper from the fifth reason out of his shirt, stuck that into the folder he’d absent-mindedly grabbed, and returned what remained of the fifth folder into where it belonged in the first Reason’s oversized folder.

He had already read what he could of the fourth reason, and read the only remaining sheet of the fifth. He sat down after organizing the folders, and opened the sixth folder of Reason One. One more reason after this one, and he’d be done reading about the deaths of his friends. Except . . . he really didn’t know what was coming after the first Reason, did he? Duncan explained the small reasons, the reasons inside the larger Reason. He never went further, as to what the others were about. And that was why he started this sixth reason with a slight hesitation . . .

_I honestly don’t remember much of the battle. But . . . you need to know._

_You would know the place we were in, Will. You’ve been there a few times, so you’d probably remember the hall we were meeting in. The hall honestly wasn’t that big, but it was big enough to fit a large table, big enough to fit the twenty Rangers, and still have open seats at the way end of the table. While it could fit the table, it was quite a tight squeeze on the sides. Most of the chairs were actually rather close to the walls, not giving us that much room to move. Above, there were balconies, only halfway up the walls. And the ceiling was rather high, with wooden rafters crisscrossing at the very top. The balconies, though: they were only on the two larger sides of the hall, with stone balustrades that went up to about waist-height. Entrances were on all four sides, though the main one was to my right, at the end of the table, which went to the entrance hall. One entrance went out into the rest of the hold, one to the kitchens, and one to the gardens._

_So, I just described to you the battleground, Will. Now, tell me this: what are our advantages and disadvantages? Take into consideration: where all twenty Rangers were sitting, the entrances and exits, the balconies, and the ceiling and room descriptions._

_The five of us who survived – we survived because we ran. I ran with Gilan and Halt, after realizing how badly we were beat. After realizing that, well, that we were getting slaughtered. It wasn’t until later that the three of us learned that only two other Rangers heard my call for retreat and made it out. Andross and Skinner were far from all right, but they were alive._

_Gilan had taken a hard hit to the face, and when we had gotten out of there, blood was still flowing out. Halt stopped the bleeding and made a quick bandage for him. It wasn’t until later that we found out it wasn’t his face that was bleeding, but his actual eye. He lost sight in his left eye, probably never see out of it again. Halt had been hit in the shoulder with a crossbow bolt, and that seemed to have worn him down a lot, because he had been leaning on Gilan’s shoulder, both of them ignoring the blood pumping around the cloth Gilan had been in front of his eye._

_Seeing them in that condition during the actual retreat, even though we had only been fighting for a few minutes, worried me. I took Halt on my shoulder when we were leaving. We were all limping down the corridor, when . . . when multiple people shot quarrels after us. But another Ranger who was trying to escape ended up running into most of the quarrels, and the rest flew wide. Gilan had stopped when that happened, and had hesitated. He looked as if he was about to go check if the Ranger who’d gotten shot was still alive. Halt grabbed his sleeve before he could move a single step._

_When we made it out, we went for the horses. It wasn’t as if we could save them all, so we mounted out horses, scattered the rest as best as we could, and bolted. We went to the nearest castle, and a day later Andross and Skinner showed up. After everyone got bandaged up, we rode to Araluen, making frequent rest stops so no one’s injuries would reopen._

_This is where the sixth reason ends, and where the seventh one begins._

Will dropped the last paper, and glanced over to the last folder. It wasn’t thick at all, like how the others were. It looked as if it only had a few sheets in it, no more than five.

Did he want to pick that up?

If he picked it up, he’d have to read it. Skinner would die, and he would have to go on to the next Reason. And what did the next Reasons entail? He wouldn’t know until he opened it, and read Duncan’s letter in the beginning. And even then, it wasn’t guaranteed that Duncan would warn him about anything in it. It was possible that he wouldn’t give a short preview of what was to come. Duncan had only said he might make a habit of it.

Hesitantly at first, he put the papers back in order, and shoved them into the sixth folder.

People were walking outside his partially opened door, signifying the start of the new day. Mostly, it looked as if it was only servants and workers so far. At least, that’s what he thought until the messenger tapped on his door.

Eiji, the messenger, could be seen through the crack. When Will motioned for him to open the door, Eiji slid the paper door aside just enough so they could see each other. He didn’t step into the threshold, but he did bow in greeting, and Will replied likewise.

“ _Chocho,_ Emperor Shigeru requests you meet with him after you taken your dinner.” Eiji started to turn away, but Will called for him to stop.

“Ah, Eiji-san, do you mean that he requests to see me after I’ve taken breakfast? Dinner would be at the very end of the day.”

A startled look briefly flashed across the messenger’s face, before he smiled. “Yes, breakfast. After breakfast. I’m sorry, _Chocho_ , I am still learning. Thank you.” He bowed, and slid the door shut. Will heard his footsteps fade.

From the sunlight behind Eiji, it was obviously still rather early in the morning, and breakfast probably wouldn’t be served for at least another hour. The ex-Ranger sighed, and glanced once again at the seventh folder. An hour, huh?

* * *

  _When we got back, I had Anthony assign rooms to the visiting Rangers. Since there were only five of us, Andross and Skinner shared a room, and Halt and Gilan shared a room. Halt and Gilan’s room was right next to mine, and Andross and Skinner’s room was across the hall. Close enough to help each other if needed._

_Before everyone went to bed on the first night, I told everyone this: “Bright and early, I want everyone in my office. All five of us. If you are a minute late, I will throw you out the window myself.”_

_Seemed effective enough. Halt and Gilan were with me first thing next morning. Gilan, who had lost so much blood earlier, up so early. I’m almost positive he would have been leaning on someone if he didn’t have so much pride._

_Andross walked in a few minutes later. I remember asking him where Skinner was, and I think he replied with: “He was up when I left, but I did warn him that you’d make good on your threat, most likely.”_

_A few minutes later, the door opened. I was just about to yell something at the kid before I realized that it wasn’t Skinner at the door, but Horace. As happy as I was to see the knight, I was starting to get worried. Skinner was running close to the time I gave. Why was he so late, when Andross had said that he was up?_

_Halt offered to go check out Skinner’s room, and Horace went with him._

_The rest of this will be written from Halt’s perspective, considering that I didn’t go over to check on Skinner myself._

Will paused. Halt’s perspective. Halt, the man who’d come back from the dead. The ex-Ranger wondered briefly if Halt would remember writing any of this. The fire, or this one. Or, any others written by him that came up in any of the later folders.

Someone tapped, and walked in without him saying anything. Will leaned back, and let the server place a plate in front of him. The server walked out without saying anything, and closed the door. He would finish the last part, finishing the first Reason, then go see Shigeru . . .

_When Horace and I walked across the hall, I don’t know what either of us were expecting. Horace opened the door for me, and walked in after me._

_The room was what you’d expect. There were two pairs of saddle bags, one thrown over the back of a straight-backed chair, and the other thrown on the table. A single pair of boots were placed near the chair, untied. They were clearly Skinner’s, because Andross was wearing his. Two cloaks were flung over the back of the couch. The small kitchenette was empty, barely used except for the coffee pot. The two rooms branching off the main room were exactly alike. Both of them had rumpled sheets. Both were empty. The only difference was that one had a window._

_The window was open, opening into the sky, and the courtyard, six stories below. I took one look at the window and suddenly realized why Skinner hadn’t showed up. The window hadn’t been opened at all, but the wind blew the shades aside anyway. The glass had been shattered, with little to none of the shards actually inside. Meaning that it was broken going out. There was blood on a few of the shards that could be seen._

_Glancing over to Horace next to me, I watched the blood drain out of his face. He’d realized too, obviously. He numbly walked over to the window, stepping gingerly over the few pieces of glass. He leaned out the window, taking care not to touch the sharp glass. “Halt.”_

_A crowd had gathered below the window, surrounding something that was sprawled across the cobblestones. We were too far up to see what everyone had crowded around, but the pool of blood was prominent enough._

Skinner hadn’t disappeared, he’d jumped out the window. Suicide? No, why would he have broken the window, when he could have opened it? Pushed out the window then? Where would the attacker have gone? Halt said both rooms were empty. The window was shattered, open. Could the attacker have gone out the window, and to the side? Or did he fall with Skinner?

Could the attacker have been on the side of the wall watching his friends look out the window? Had he heard Crowley’s warning, and took action along those lines? Pushing the Ranger out of the window, when that’s what Crowley said he would do?

* * *

Shigeru’s room was technically **rooms** , with the sitting room, receiving room, and a private room. When Will walked up to the entrance of the Emperor’s rooms, a servant walked him into the receiving room. He didn’t say anything, but the receiving room was more formal than the sitting room, and usually Shigeru met with Will in the sitting room. That either meant that the servant was new, or someone else was going to be present. Halt?

Will stopped in the doorway of the receiving room. He heard the servant slide the door shut behind him.

The embassy from last night was sitting Nihon-Jan style at the low table in front of him. When the servant had opened the door, the embassy had turned, and what had stopped Will was his eyes, again. The piercing blue of his eyes bore into Will, freezing him to the floor.

The man had black hair cut rather messily, but professionally. It fell around his jawline in the front, while in the back it fell to his shoulder blades. His skin was rather pale, which contrasted immensely with his hair, reminding Will vaguely of Lord Morgarath. He didn’t have the customary hair color of Skandia, nor Gallica. His skin wasn’t tanned like the workers from Celtica. And while he looked Sonderlandian, black hair was also quite rare there. Although . . . even though he looked Sonderlandian, his eyes were shaped different . . . nearly Nihon-Jan. It was also possible he could have been Aslavan or Alphinan, even with that type of eye shape. He looked young, no older than Will himself.

Before either of them could say anything, the door behind Will opened again, and he stepped hurriedly to the side, startled by the rough way the door had been opened. The roughness should have warned him who it was; Halt.

The Ranger walked through the doorway, but slipped to the side and stood next to Will as Shigeru walked in. The embassy quickly stood up, realizing that it was disrespectful to sit while the Emperor stood. Shigeru moved to sit in his customary spot, in front of the door that lead to his other chambers. He bowed as he sat, and Halt, the embassy, and Will all bowed in response before taking their seats. Will sat to Shigeru’s right, where he usually sat when Reito wasn’t present. Halt sat to Shigeru’s left, across from Will. The two of them made eye contact from across the table. The look in Halt’s eyes wasn’t good. The embassy sat down where he had been sitting before, across from Shigeru. His face was calm, but behind his eyes, Will could see barely restrained anxiousness.

“Halto-san, I believe you met Russ-err-san at the dinner last night?” Shigeru turned to Halt, but motioned towards the delegate. The way Shigeru had stated his name, the pause in the middle, and slur-ish quality at the end . . . _Rus-err-san_ was probably meant to be _Russell-san_. Russell was a Gallic name, or, normally, Araluen. Where was he from?

Will turned his face away, and examined one of Shigeru’s drawings on the walls. He had animal drawings all over this room. Not everyone would know what the drawings meant, if they meant anything at all, but the moment Will had first seen them, he’d laughed. There were five pictures, with two on one wall, and the others having one wall to themselves. A bear catching a salmon and a fox hiding in a bush shared the wall behind the Emperor, while a detailed butterfly was placed on the wall behind Will. Behind Halt was a drawing of a crane standing in a river, and behind the embassy, Russell, was a hawk in flight. Also behind Russell was a small display table, which sat about a half meter higher than the table. On it sat a clear vase, filled with some of his garden pebbles, with two arrows placed in it. One arrow had a grey shaft, the other had a black shaft, both with dark fletching, and broad arrowheads. Shigeru loved his mementos.

Did he know Russell? The embassy claimed to have known Will once a long time ago, briefly, yet Will didn’t recall him.

“Yes, Your Excellency, we had an interesting conversation.”

The present conversation didn’t concern Will, so he tuned them out. He examined one of the drawings, one behind Shigeru, the fox. He’d examined all of them before, in great detail, yet he did so anyways. Will was always entranced with the eyes. Will lost himself in the eyes of the fox, remembering. Remembering the woman who inspired those eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to look into the crane’s eyes.

“ _Chocho._ ”

Will let his gaze fall back to the Emperor. They were all staring at him, Russell’s eyes curious, Halt’s reserved but concerned, and Shigeru’s . . . worried? Why would he be worried? Halt had a reason, but not Shigeru . . .

“Yes, Shigeru-san?” He saw the flash of annoyance from the embassy when he referred to him in such a common term. Will didn’t know what was coming, but he had a feeling it wasn’t good. Or, at least, not good in his opinion. Will crossed his arms in front of him, and leaned back a little. He very nearly let one of his hands crawl up his shoulder, but he caught it, and restrained it on his lap. He would **not** have a breakdown in front of the embassy and Halt.

“Did you hear what Halto-san proposed?”

“No.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Will watched the embassy resituate himself, and look down. Halt was silent, as was normal. Shigeru cleared his throat.

“Halto-san proposed we take a ship to your home country, Ara-ruen.” Shigeru laced his fingers together, and placed them on his lap. His gaze landed on Will, and waited patiently.

Despite himself, Will felt his mouth curl, felt himself start to heave with restraint. He felt panic, yet . . .

The laughter burst from his lips. In a few seconds, he was gasping for breath, being unable to restrain himself. Then, Will slowly stood up, still laughing. As Shigeru was still sitting, Halt’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and Russell’s eyes darkened with a rage that was actually alarmingly familiar to the ex-Ranger.

Will was still giggling, holding his sides with a smile across his face, as he said, “That – now that was a terrible joke, Shigeru. I know you were trying to be funny, but that was just bad. If that’s all, I’m leaving.” He started to walk around the table, behind the embassy, who had covered up his anger at Will’s disrespectful behavior. As he started to move, Shigeru quietly cleared his throat.

That caused Will to pause behind Halt. He had just been about to open the door when he heard Shigeru, and he knew that meant that the Emperor wasn’t finished.

“It was not a joke, Wirru-san.”

Only Shigeru saw Will’s smile shatter to pieces. Halt was sitting in front of Will, and was still looking away from his apprentice, unsure with how he should be acting around Will, and Russell was refusing to look at the ex-Ranger. But Shigeru saw. He saw Will pause. Saw the smile freeze. Nothing changed in the demeanor of the smile, but the Emperor still saw it crack, break, and eventually, shatter as the ex-Ranger took in Shigeru’s words.

“Don’t expect me to go along,” Will said. He heard his voice, strangely flat and emotionless. He started to turn for the door.

“But I am, _Chocho._ I plan to go along with Halto-san.”

“ **What**?” Will’s head whipped around, the disbelief, the hurt, surprise, worry, it was all plain in Will’s voice, which was laced with multiple other emotions, all directed towards Shigeru.

What was he thinking? Going to **that** place? He was the **Emperor.**

“Halto-san made a good argument, which would have taken place in your rooms, but you were asleep, which ended up being a good thing. You would not have liked it. I now believe that we should take some time to figure out what truly happened to your home country. Since I was personally involved with multiple people there, I feel obligated to go myself as well.”

Will wasn’t breathing. He was staring at Shigeru in disbelief, eyes wide, mouth partially open. His voice was higher pitched then normal when he snapped, “Then why don’t you send someone else out there, someone who’s not, oh, I don’t know – **the Emperor.”**

Shigeru closed his eyes. “ _Chocho._ ” Only Will recognized the word for what it was. A warning. A warning to calm down.

He leaned back, and gulped in a fresh breath of air. He felt the panic rise in his throat. His shoulder and hip were starting to burn with pain, and this time Will didn’t stop his hand when it went up to rest on his shoulder. At least he didn’t start to frantically trace the scar that only he could feel. He started to learn forward a bit.

“Why must you, of all people, go?” he whispered.

“I already said,” Shigeru started softly, “I am personally involved with multiple people who lived there, and I feel an obligation towards them.”

Will couldn’t help it. “But Shigeru, **they are all dead.** They have been dead for at least four years as far as we know. There’s no one there to feel ‘obligated’ too! There’s no point, don’t go. Nothing good will come of it. **Please.** ” Tears started to prick his vision. He wouldn’t make it much further in this argument.

“But _Chocho_ , we don’t know that. Halto-san, one we believed dead, is sitting right in front of you.”

Will watched the embassy go. An Arridan representative, going with them to discover which of their wakirs had rebelled. Nothing sat with his story, most prominent of all his skin and looks, which were not Arridan. And, even if he was Arridan, the records would have been at their capital already. With a story that flimsy, Will was nearly positive he knew who he would need to shoot first.

He had sat quietly at his spot, after being slowly coaxed back into it by Shigeru, and some surprisingly helpful cut-ins from Halt.

He had stated that he would be going if Shigeru was going. If Shigeru was going definitely, and Will wasn’t, that meant Reito would have to go, and that also meant that someone else would have to take charge in Nihon-Ja. If Will went, Reito would be able to stay behind, and take on the job to fill in for Shigeru. Will wasn’t happy with the arrangement, but he didn’t want to leave the country in untrained hands. Reito was the best candidate, and while others had the training, none had it as good as Reito. So, that meant someone, meaning Will, would have to be with Shigeru on the trip. It would be a long, miserable trip, but, Will reasoned, better sooner than later, because it would have happened eventually.

Halt stood up, and bowed to Shigeru, who was still sitting to Will’s left. They exchanged words, which Will didn’t pay attention to, and he turned to leave. Will running off intuition and three cups of coffee, called to him.

“Halt, how long ago were you shot in the shoulder again? At Eastmarch?”

A confused, concerned expression filled Halt’s face as he turned around in the doorway.

“Eastmarch?”

Will swallowed. “Eastmarch. The back-up Gathering place. I thought you got shot there.”

“What are you talking about, Will? I was never shot in the shoulder, and I haven’t been to Eastmarch in more than a decade.”

A pause. “Oh. I thought you had for some reason. Just ignore me then.”


	3. Family and Friends

_The second Reason is for your family. For your loved ones._

Will glanced up to Halt, who sat across from him. He was speaking with Shigeru, who sat between them at the edge of the table. Neither of them were paying him any attention, too intent on the details of their imminent trip to Ito.

_Now, I realize, Will, that this may not seem like a reason for me to send you halfway across the world, and you are right about that. It's not. But it is something that needs to be said, and that's why this is here. So, technically, I should be saying there are six Reasons rather than seven. Can't really change what I said before, though, can I?_

_There's really not much of an explanation in this one, as the letters your family gave me are one-hundred percent personal. I didn't read them, didn't want to. Some things are meant to stay between family, and while I am the father-in-law of your brother, I don't believe that counts. The letters I have included in this Reason are from those who've survived everything. Lady Alyss, Halt, Horace, Ranger Gilan, and Cassie. Crowley also sent along a letter, saying that since you've been gone, he's found that he missed you more than he expected. I'm not sure if that's supposed to be a compliment or what, but that's what he told me._

Will dropped his head further, but was unable to pull his eyes away from the paper. He didn't want to read their letters. It'd just bring more pain, knowing they were dead. Hearing these last words of theirs, and not even being able to say goodbye.

"When do you believe we shall leave, Halto-san?" came Shigeru's voice. They must have arranged everything, only now needing to know when they would be leaving.

Halt's voice replied, but Will didn't catch what he said. He only sat across the table from him, so it wasn't as if he were far away. They sat in Shigeru's informal receiving room, sitting around the small table in the center. It was just the three of them, Reito being pulled away from joining them by duties. Shigeru apparently didn't like the embassy named Russell that much to invite him back.

_Basically, this entire Reason will be the letters I included in the package. I have no clue as to which letters are from who, but I'm sure you'll recognize the writing on the outside. Read them in whatever order you wish. At the moment, however, I have them in order of least closest to closest. Meaning that your wife's letter is on the bottom, and Crowley's is on the top._

'That paragraph is a bit hypocritical,' Will thought to himself. Halt said something, and Will had a feeling it was directed at him. When he looked up, however, he and Shigeru were still deep in conversation, not even looking towards him. Glancing around himself, he saw the open patio door behind him. No chairs, of course.

'It's getting stuffy in here anyways,' he reasoned, and quietly unfolded his legs and stood. Halt and Shigeru's conversation paused for a moment, but started up again as they saw him take a few steps away, and sit quietly on the patio. Slightly to the side, and behind a wall, so they could still see him, but at the same time not. There were times when Shigeru sat with people on his patio, and which looked out onto the pebble garden, so there were already mats laying around.

The note from Duncan that he held in his hand was short, barely a page long. The rest of the bundle in his hand must be the letters. Before untying the bundle, which was kept together with twine, Will held it in front of his face. The top of the bundle, which Duncan described as 'least closest', held thinner letters. The first two were the thinnest, no more than two or three sheets, while the bottom, the last few on the bottom were the thickest.

Shrugging, the ex-Ranger pulled out his throwing knife, which, for some reason, he'd earlier shoved into a boot sheath. Instead of bothering with an attempt of untying the tight knot, he simply cut the string and slid out the pile of envelopes. He sheathed the knife.

They were all wrapped in the same type of paper, which was somewhat odd considering all the letters werecoming from different people. He flipped through the pile, examining each envelope. He would study the front, which would have his name written on it, with the sender's name below. Then he would flip to the back, and scrutinize the seal. The fact that all the letters were of the same stiff paper was odd enough, but that they were closed with Duncan's official seal made it weirder. It was the King's writing on the front of the letters, and that Will could tell. But his repeated name also suggested that the original writer would have written the words on the outside of the paper, with how the script differed. He could tell one was obviously Duncan's writing, with a quick comparison between his introduction letter and the names written on the outside. The other writing was evidently the original sender's.

In order, the letters came from Crowley, Cassandra, Gilan, Horace, Halt, and Alyss. Will frowned. This entire Reason was unwarranted. The Reasons were supposed to be explaining why he was basically banished from his home. And so far, the ex-Ranger wasn't satisfied. If he thought about it, the chance of enemies going after the Ranger Corps **was** predictable, but the fact that the Rangers who meant the most to him survived? It just seemed . . . rigged. Planned.

Will considered going back to his rooms, collecting the box of papers, and dumping them in the pond that so thoroughly destroyed the fifth part of the first Reason.

Instead, he put the letters back in the order Duncan had them in, and plucked Crowley's from the top.

'Let's see what this old man has to say,' he thought . . .

_Will—_

_There's very few times in my life where I actually regret following orders. Normally, if I think the ruling is wrong, I don't follow. Simple as that. Halt does the same thing, as does Gilan. You did it too, sometimes. Most Rangers did, actually._ _It's just the way we were trained—with disregard for most people except for the single person above us. The problem, Will, is when do we disregard the orders from_ that _single_ _person?_

_We are always supposed to follow him, no matter what. Everything he said before and during the war, I didn't want to follow. And yet I did. I followed. And look what happened._

_The moment I'm namely thinking about, Will, is when I let Duncan send you away._ _Why did I let him? You, of all people? And at that time?_

_I realize that with you staying here, amidst everything else going on, it's very possible you wouldn't have survived. I don't know if you've been told how many Rangers alone have been killed, but let's just say that there's not many of us left. But I feel dying early would have been an easier fate to push on you, rather than the one you're living currently._

_Now, I'll probably get some of this wrong, but let me guess: you think all of us are dead. Me, Halt, Alyss, Horace. Everyone you'd ever loved, dead, right? You're isolated, not physically, but mentally. You have plenty of people over there who would call themselves your friend, and whom you yourself would call friend. But it wouldn't be the same, would it? Isolation. Unanswered questions. And so, you needed to confirm it. Needed to see for yourself._ _You were always like that—curious. That_ is _why Halt chose you to be his last apprentice._

_Duncan told you to stay away, Will._

_You still came back, though, didn't you?_

The tone was nearly accusatory.

Will shakily placed the letter on the ground in front of him, and stood up. He needed to get out of there. He needed to get outside. Get some fresh air.

Running a hand through his hair, he turned in a circle. He was already outside, genius. Now everyone will be looking at him like he was stupid. Glancing inside, he could see that Halt and Shigeru were still in deep conversation, not paying Will any mind. If he really wanted to, he could walk away. Leave. He didn't have to stay. He didn't have to humiliate himself here daily. He could leave. He could go back to Araluen. He could disappear from the world. He had the skills, the experience. He had been a Ranger, meaning if he didn't want to be found, then he wouldn't be found.

At the same time that his mind was thinking of **everything,** it was not moving at all. Frozen. When he finally pulled his hand from his hair, his entire arm was shaking. Breathing was hard - coming in short, quick gasps. He could feel sweat dripping down the small of his back, even though the weather was near perfect. Not too hot or cold, yet he shivered as his body baked. He hated this feeling.

He took a step away, backing away from the mat he'd been sitting on. Halt and Shigeru would hear him. They'd look down on him, laugh at him. Seeing him panic for no reason. 'Oh, damn it all! Why am I like this?' Will stumbled back to the wall, but made sure not to hit it. It wasn't that thick, and anything hitting it would be heard inside. They would know for certain, then.

Clamping his mouth shut, he crossed his arms, taking in hand each of his elbows, and gripping hard. Slowly, he sank back down to the ground, drawing his knees against his chest, and letting his head sink to a rest on top. He sat silent for a while, breathing and listening to the singing birds and the low murmur of Halt and Shigeru in debate. He felt a sob build in his chest, but forced himself to swallow, and not let it out. They would hear, they would be concerned, they would ask him what was wrong, and other, more intrusive, questions. He couldn't let that happen.

'If I want to continue reading these letters—hell, any of these "reasons"—I'll have to do something about . . .' Will brought his head up, and stared blankly ahead. If he needed to do something, he'd need to change himself. Who he'd become. The old Will would be able to read these—but the new one? He needed to do something.

But there wasn't anything he could do . . .

_You shouldn't have done that, Will. I have no way of knowing what could've happened to you, but there's no way it could have been good. Considering . . . what's happened here. I'm sorry. It can be blamed on quite a few different people._

_Everyone seems convinced that you're coming back with extra help. I don't think Duncan has told them, or anyone for that matter, the real reason why you left. I don't know, and yet here I am, still backing this guy up. I lost one of my best men, and the war hadn't even started. I just have a feeling that it wasn't exactly to bring back help that we already had. I don't know what Duncan could be possibly hiding, but the fact that he's throwing you into it without telling you what it is . . . I don't even know anymore. It just doesn't seem wise to me to send off one of our best people when we need him the most._

_Can we even trust Duncan?_

_That's technically treason; questioning Duncan's right, his rule. Is this really what we've been brought to? Treason and chaos? This is just great. Committing treason_ makes total _sense to survive this war._

_Come back soon, please. And alive. We need you._

Will paused. All of these letters and documents were being sent by Duncan. Yet Crowley questioned his credibility within these letters. In all honesty, the commandant was speaking sense. Duncan's actions didn't make much sense. But weren't these letters here to prove Duncan right? All of the Reasons were supposed to be explaining why he was sent away, but they were just giving him more questions than answers.

Going as far as to call Duncan untrustworthy was probably more truthful than Crowley had thought.

Turning to the side, Will glanced inside the room, where Halt and Shigeru were no longer found. 'When did they leave?' the ex-Ranger asked himself. 'And why didn't I hear them leave?' Looking ahead now, Will found himself completely alone. While no one had been in the gardens earlier, there had still been **noises.** It was completely silent now. No wildlife sounds. No human sounds. Nothing.

Any type of alarm would go off, human or otherwise, if something was happening. And while his old instincts told him to go investigate, he also didn't want to deal with whatever was causing the silence.

Simultaneously shamed and relieved at his decision, Will slipped Crowley's letter to the way bottom of his small stack, and picked up the next one.

Cassandra's.

He sat back, staring at the letter.

After enduring the silence, and putting off reading Cassie's letter for a good hour, Will finally picked up the small envelope back up. Just as Crowley's had, it was made of a thick paper, with both his name and Cassandra's on the outside. The back held Duncan's seal—something else Will saw as odd, considering as Crown Princess, Cassandra had her own seal.

Shrugging internally, and telling himself that it didn't matter what oddities stacked up, Will broke the seal, and unfolded the papers held within. It didn't matter, mainly because all of this had been over years ago. Everyone was dead either way and he couldn't exactly change the past.

_Dearest Will,_

_Usually, you've at least had the luck to have someone with you whenever you got into a tight spot. But in this one, you're really alone, aren't you? I mean, you know Shigeru, and you know Reito, sort of, but not like . . . like you know myself or Horace. Or Halt, or Gilan. Alyss._

_I'm sorry. You probably don't want to hear that. You've probably already noticed._

_From what my dad is giving away, which isn't much, you've probably been in Nihon-Ja for about six months by the time I was told to write this. How long does it take for letters to reach over there? Not long, I hope. I know Horace has tried sending a few, along with Alyss and maybe one or two from Halt. Maybe one from Gilan as well, and I forgot to say that Pauline was included with Halt's letters. In all honesty, I think everyone has sent at least one letter. Everyone misses you. And my dad says they were all sent, that it was confirmed._

_And yet more and more months go by, and not a word from you._

_Not a single word._

_Dad insists that you're alive. All of us except him suspect that you are dead, and that these letters are just being burned by whoever is receiving them. I hope that isn't true. It can't be true._

_Can it?_

_You're not the type of person to ignore letters. I'm surprised that you haven't reached out on your own._

_I've tried talking to Horace about this, but he's just as confused as I am, which I suspect is just making our efforts against our enemy worse. All of us clueless as to what is happening. People are dying, but there's no one actually there to kill them. It—it doesn't make any sense, and my father still has the audacity to act clueless! He's the King! Or was? He knows these things, and he's hiding the reason why you had to leave!_

_What is even going on, Will? You're sent away, given no say in the matter. My dad refuses to answer questions, even as his kingdom is being slaughtered before his eyes. He wants Horace to defend this place, but doesn't tell his son-in-law who he is defending against, or even where these supposed attackers are at! We are fighting against shadows, and my father doesn't have the decency to tell anyone else! He doesn't even act like my dad anymore. It's scary to think that it might not be my dad at all . . . but that can't be right. It wouldn't be easy to replace the King, and have no one notice. Especially his daughter and son-in-law and his closest friends and advisors. Sure, he's acting weird, and while I probably wouldn't be the first to admit it . . . my dad is getting old. Could that be it? Could he be sick? What kind of disease makes you . . . not yourself? Except, Halt and Crowley are older than him! How could that be? Would it have to run in the family then? Does that mean I will end up like him eventually?_

_Honestly Will, I would prefer our first time together in Skandia to this moment. I realize you probably wouldn't . . . well, maybe you would. Would being addicted to warmweed be better than dead?_

_Never mind._

_That brings me back to the point on if you're actually dead._

Will wasn't sure if he should laugh or what. Laughing would draw attention to himself in this dead silence, but what he'd just read was hilarious for some odd reason. She was wondering if he was dead or not, yet here he's been for six years and believed—no, **knew** —them all dead for more than half that. It was almost comical in his eyes. . .

_Because my father is not letting me do anything, I literally have nothing other than this to write. So let's figure this out, okay? I'm going to figure out if my friend is dead or not. Sounds like something you would do—determine whether someone is dead or not with so little information, and then write it to that person. Or have I just haven't seen you in long enough that . . . I'm creating my own versions of you, and I don't remember the real you?_

_Either way—_

_Dad says you were sent away to keep you "safe", without ever specifying why. Why you needed protection, why you would be going to Nihon-Ja, of all places, and why at such an inconvenient time? It just doesn't make sense! You're one of our top people, you work fast, and, while not always ethically, you get things done. I doubt my dad sent you away just for being unethical. We probably would have benefited by being more unethical in this situation, anyways!_

_And even though we'll probably lose the war because of this, he still refuses to tell us. I realize I've said that a few times, but seriously! I'm old enough to rule this kingdom, and he's keeping these things from me? What gets me is that Crowley, Halt, and Anthony all have no idea what he was thinking. He's not even collaborating anymore. He just does things that he thinks are okay, and doesn't ask anyone else! You can't run a_ kingdom _like that!_

_Even so . . . I'm worried about him, Will._

_I talk to Horace about this nearly every night, but there's not much he can say or do. He'll be King Consort, not the actual King, when I take the throne, so he won't even actually have to know how to handle something like this. He won't have any power either. Just sway. What if my dad just keeps getting worse and worse? What if he sends troops some place that would get them killed? Would we have to take over? Would I have to lock my own Father in his room, to keep him from destroying this kingdom even further? Like a child in a time-out?_

_I'm not just worried, Will. I'm scared._

_I realize it's probably against what Duncan told you . . . but technically, I've been overriding his commands elsewhere so . . . come home. If you can. We need all the help we can get. Especially yours._

At that, he sat back, dropping the letter once more. It fell into his lap face up. Staring down at the words, something felt weird. Everything about these letters felt weird. Cassandra just seemed to be dumping her worries on him, and even though that made sense that she would be overwhelmed, would she really write those things about her father, and then **give** the letter to him, trusting that he wouldn't open it, and actually send it to the promised recipient? Even when inside, it states her worry of the letters never reaching him?

Someone tapped Will on the shoulder, and he flinched, spinning around with an arm raised ready to defend himself. But it was only Halt. A concerned look spread across the older man's face, while he raised an eyebrow at Will's raised arm. Awkwardly, he dropped it, and shoved the letter into his jacket. "Halt," he greeted.

Halt nodded, glancing once at the small stack of letters beside the ex-Ranger's knee. Instead of asking about it, Halt said: "Shigeru and I are going to talk to Meissa and Hassan, and maybe Russell if we can find him."

Will nodded absently, suddenly off guard. Halt and Shigeru had been behind him the entire time? In that silence? He should have heard them, but it was like he suddenly had gone deaf for a few minutes. Glancing past Halt, he saw Shigeru sitting peacefully at the table, his legs crossed, and his normal content smile on his face. Then Will remembered seeing the room empty.

"Would you like to come with us, or . . ." Halt started, but trailed off upon seeing Will's distracted look.

"Uh, I'll stay here," the ex-Ranger responded, "I'm not much in the mood to go around talking to people."

Before Halt could say anything, Shigeru nodded, "Ah, yes, that's what I tried to tell him, _Chocho._ Halto-san, let us go see to our guests." He stood, elegantly standing from his cross-legged position with little trouble, despite his apparent aging.

Shigeru didn't wait to see if Halt followed when he walked out the door, but Halt gave his old apprentice one last concerned look. Will made the effort to smile, and waved goodbye. That must've reassured him, because the grizzled Ranger gave a genuine smile back, and turned out the door after the Emperor.

After the door slid shut behind him, Will turned back to the letters. The next was from Gilan.

Gilan, who'd been stalked in the first Reason. Who'd also been poisoned, nearly dying. Gilan, who probably lost half his eyesight due to a small mistake. Who had to watch almost all of his friends die, not being able to do anything about it. And yet, here was a letter from him.

Will broke the seal, sighing . . .

 _I guess Duncan assumed he was doing me a favor, asking if I had a letter or anything I wanted to say to you. I was honestly going to refuse him, but then I figured—I do actually have something to say to you. A_ lot _to say, damn it._

 _All of this is_ your _fault._

His heart flew to his throat. He wanted to throw up. **Was** it all his fault? Meissa had cleared up the idea of it being Iqbal, and if it had been him, then it technically **would** have been his fault.

Was it still his fault, even if they didn't know who started it in the first place? . . .

 _No offense, but you're usually the one who gets the shit beat out of him. When things go south, people usually go for you. You're usually always in the way, so you always got in trouble. YOU, Will. But with YOU gone, bud, guess who got to go through everything that YOU were supposed to? ME!_ I _got the shit beat out of me, instead of you._ I _had to stand in the way, and_ I _had to go through all of that. Because_ you _weren't here to take it._

_Because Duncan decided to pull his favorite card, and get you out of here before things went to flames. I was actually sort of surprised when he chose you over Cassandra. You'd think he'd want to get his own daughter out of danger, don't you think? Maybe this entire time Duncan has been slowly deteriorating mentally, and we didn't notice because we were too busy focusing on other things. That's probably it, in all honesty. That's why he sent you away. That's why he doesn't seem to care about the death of his country. The eventual death of his child._

_Duncan pissed someone off. They decided to pay him back by destroying this country._ His _country._

_And we're thrown into the middle of it. I am thrown into the middle of it. Because of you._

By now, Will was on his feet, pacing back and forth on the patio. He didn't have to worry about being noticed now that Halt and Shigeru had left.

Could Gilan have actually changed that much? These letters had to be written at least six years ago, and while he didn't know how far along some of these letters were written during the war, could his best friend really change **that** much, in such little time? Would he really blame something he couldn't actually connect back to him, on him?

Will swallowed, and felt something prick his eyes. Gilan had every right to hate him, though. He could've found out something that Will didn't know himself, and that could be how he could so assuredly blame everything on him . . .

_I wonder what you're doing over there. Relaxing. Enjoying yourself. Not worrying if you were going to survive the next few days. Not dead or dying._

_Honestly, why did I even bother to say anything. You don't deserve the reassurance that any of us are alive. Did you know that most of the Rangers are dead by now? That I had to deal with most of their murders. Because apparently I'm the Will Treaty Replacement._

_At this moment in time, I'm almost wishing that you were one of those bodies that I had to investigate. I hope you catch a damn arrow in your face._

_And if you aren't dead, I hope you never return to Araluen ever again. Because if you do, you might be catching one of my arrows._

Will's eyes widened, and he stopped breathing. Could . . . could Gilan actually mean that?

"You all right?"

He was too stunned from the letter to react. He hadn't even flinched from the sudden appearance. A few seconds later, he slowly raised his head to see Meissa. Who Halt and Shigeru were supposed to be speaking too. And so he said that.

Meissa shook her head, "I didn't want to. So I walked away. Hassan got caught though," she smiled, humor filling her face. The scarf around her head was orange today, wrapped around her neck, and covering her hair completely. The scar across her face was white, standing out noticeably against her dark skin.

He was always amazed with her beauty, even now, when violence marred it.

"You never want to talk to others," Will murmured, sitting back down on his mat. He set Gilan's letter to his side, and motioned to the ground beside him for her to sit. She smiled, and sat herself down beside him. Even though she knew he was married, she sat close enough so that their legs were touching.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, mocking an offended tone to her voice.

Smiling, Will responded without looking to her, studying the rock garden from where he sat. "You don't want to talk to people. You only talk if you want to. Otherwise the person just gets the silent treatment, or gets abandoned in a desert by themselves."

She laughed, "You were lucky that you had already been in a desert before. Either way, I only did that because you were **persistent.** "

"That was kind of part of my job," he replied, pursing his lips. "And even if I was experienced, I still could have died."

Meissa laughed again at that, and the two of them went silent, a companionable silence. Something Will was starting to get tired of, with people trying to speak with him, but him being unwilling to speak back. So, maybe that made it a non-companionable silence, but at least Meissa seemed somewhat comfortable.

After a few seconds more, and the woman turned to look at him, curiosity in her one good eye. "What were you reading that was bothering you so much?"

Would she understand? Would she understand everything that he would tell her, **if** he decided to answer that?

"Just a short letter . . . from someone in Ito that I know. They're having finical troubles, and was wondering if it would be possible to be hired out to work for the Emperor," he lied.

She nodded, taking the answer as fact, without questioning whether it was true or not. It surprised him, for some reason, seeing someone trust him unquestionably. Even Shigeru questioned him sometimes, as did Halt and the others . . . when they were still alive. Suddenly, he felt bad, for lying to her, for using her trust against her.

They sat in silence once more, Will looking out to the garden, and Meissa feinting the same. Every so often, however, he would see her eyes flick towards him. Studying him. Scrutinizing him.

"Why are you acting weirdly around Hassan and me?" she asked bluntly, pushing a strand of hair back into the scarf where it had slipped out. She drew her knees up to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them. She didn't seem to care that as she did that, her robe hitched up, and the pants she wore underneath it were in plain view. Knowing her, he didn't say anything. She wouldn't care otherwise.

"Do you want me to show you around the gardens?" he asked, avoiding the question, "people get lost in them a lot, but after living for a few years around them, it almost becomes second nature to get out of them."

"Why aren't you answering my questions?" she asked, annoyance flashing in her eyes. The scowl transformed her face, and Will felt shivers go up his spine.

"The gardens are only so extensive, of course," he continued, "but Shigeru likes them like that. He always says that beauty can only go so far, and that there were all types of beauty, and the gardens were only one of them." He swallowed, forcing himself not to look at the woman sitting next to him.

"Will—"

"He likes taking walks outside as well, and studies the beauty in nature. Sometimes he brings back a flower, and whenever he does that, I always see them growing in the gardens a few days later."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she snapped.

Will flinched at the harshness in her voice, but when he finally wrenched his eyes over to look at her, he saw regret in the eyes that were no longer focused on him.

Not knowing what else to do, Will stood, collecting the small packet of letters as he did so. Suddenly, he just wanted to be alone. He wanted to go to his rooms.

"No, Will . . ." Meissa reached for his hand, but grabbed his wrist instead. "I—I didn't mean that. I'm sorry."

Discreetly, the ex-Ranger twisted his arm, making Meissa's grip fall off.

"I was told you were supposed to come here before," he said quietly, not looking back at her.

"Before?" she sounded confused.

"Six years ago. When I first came here. I was supposed to stay until you came," Will felt the corners of his mouth dip, and took a deep breath to keep the tears or the sobs from overtaking. "And since you never came, I never left. And since I never left, they were all killed. Because of me. Me—my fault. It's all—" he stopped abruptly. He had said too much.

" **What?** " Meissa let go of her knees, and quickly stood to look Will in the face. "Neither myself nor Hassan were ever told by anyone to meet you here!" she put a hand on either of his shoulders, a concerned look covering the confusion. "And why would they? Wouldn't it have been easier to just send you to **us** instead of **here**? Arrida is closer to Araluen than Nihon-Ja!"

Will's jaw clamped shut. And before he could think better, he shrugged her hands off his shoulders, pocketed the packet of letters, and stepped off the patio. He didn't look back to see what Meissa did, even as he disappeared into the winding pathways that countless people got lost in every day.

* * *

Reading Horace's letter, Will was only reminded how much he had loved his family, and how heartbroken he was to know that they were dead. The hand that wrote this letter was no longer moving, the person behind it no longer standing. Probably fallen in battle to some unknowns . . .

_We were a good team, right?_

He ducked his head, looking away from the paper and down to the pebbles at his feet. After walking away from Meissa, he'd somehow ended up walking right back to the place where they had talked earlier. The pond, where he had dropped the folder of papers from the first reason. Why he was back here, he didn't know, but when he arrived here, the ex-Ranger sat down on the side, crossing his legs in the traditional Nihon-Ja style. Pulling out the next letter, he was hopeful to see Horace's name, especially after the surprise that had come from Gilan's.

But the letter. It wasn't bad. It was just . . . painful . . .

_As much as I miss your company, bud, I am sort of glad that Duncan sent you away. After seeing everything that happened with the Rangers, you could have died then. And then the problems in Redmont, and even a few other places, who knows! And what would have happened to us if you died? That would have been a guaranteed death for everyone, right away. The best going down first. I honestly surprised myself, surviving this far._

_Not sure how much longer I will, but . . . never mind._

Will covered his hand with his mouth, attempting to hold back the tears by holding back air. The letter began to shake in his hand, so much that he clenched his muscles, trying to still it. It wasn't working too well, so Will crossed his arms over his stomach, and bent over, letting his breath out.

Moaning, he crunched the letter in his fist, suddenly **not** wanting to read Horace's goodbye.

Because that's what it was.

A goodbye.

Because, even if he didn't say it in the letter, it would be implied. That he knew he wouldn't get away. That Horace knew that he wouldn't live past this war. Whatever his last battle was. Was Horace killed with a sword and shield in his hand, protecting family or innocent, or was he mercilessly cut down by unknowns, giving him no chance to defend himself?

Would he find out, as he continued to read Duncan's supposed reasons for sending him away? . . .

 _I—Duncan sent you away. Cassie and I don't know why, nor anyone else. We don't know when you're supposed to be back, we don't know if you'll_ ever _be back. That kills me, us, by itself. Losing my brother. We don't know if we'll even win this war. If we'll survive it. Duncan sent you away immediately, so that implied that it was important, but . . . still. You're my brother, and I would have preferred to at least say goodbye._ _Pretty sure no one would have allowed me to go with you. I would have. I would have fought to keep you here too. If I had been present, if I had been allowed to see you before you left—then I bet we wouldn't be in this present position. You would be here. Beside me. Possibly sending someone else a letter, but still. You'd be beside me, and not oceans away._

 _Cassie and I are starting to think Duncan didn't send you away for a good reason, though, which just makes this thought all the more painful. What if you weren't sent away for a good reason? What if you were just sent away . . . because? Because he didn't want you to be there? It's not like he was_ protecting _you, because he knows that you can easily take care of yourself. Unless he forgot._

 _He_ has _been forgetting a lot of things recently. He forgot Cass' birthday. And yea, we're in the middle of a war, but you'd think a father would find the time to turn to his daughter and say 'happy birthday'. He forgot that I'm_ married _to his daughter. But he remembered that Anthony's favorite pie is apple._

_Could he have forgotten?_

_He must have. Could he have been protecting you? Thinking you were a valuable resource, and that you needed to be protected? Hidden away?_

_I wonder how we would have fared differently, if you had been here. Not hidden. Would you have made a difference? Normally, I wouldn't think that one person could change the outcome of an entire war, but the thing is; you've done that multiple times already. Changed major, impossible endings into something bearable. Changed wars for the better._ _Just like Macindaw! Skandia! Arrida! Nihon-Ja, where you're at! You've done it so much, so many times . . . so why not now? Why not for your own country? Why not for your own country, when it needed help the most?_

_Could you have done that again?_

Behind him, Will sensed someone step off the path, making their way towards him. But they didn't seem to try to conceal their movements or footsteps, so he didn't look up. He was too busy focusing on the pain that the letter brought him. The compressed feeling in his chest. The clenching of his jaw. He was even digging his nails into his palm, although he didn't remember doing it.

Something hot pricked him in the face, and for a moment, he thought a bug had landed on him. Except it wasn't a bug, he felt, when it started to slide down his cheek.

The footsteps stopped beside him. Will turned partially to see who it was, ignoring the other tears when they fell. He didn't care much as to who it was, because most people at the palace had seen him at his worst.

Except Halt.

Will quickly dashed the tears away, hoping that the older Ranger hadn't seen his action. He was almost sure that he had, but if he did, Halt said nothing. Together, they stared out at the small pond, not exchanging any words. Folding up the unfinished letter, Will slid it into his jacket, not bothering to explain anything to Halt as he stood.

Shoving his hands into pockets, Will walked around the pond and back onto the path, heading towards the buildings, in the opposite direction of Shigeru's chambers. Pausing a bit down the trail, the ex-Ranger glanced over his shoulder to his mentor, who still stood at the pond. At the silent look, Halt nodded, and fell into step with his former apprentice.

Neither said a word to the other, until Will slid open his door, and stepped back for Halt to go in first. They stepped into Will's private chambers, where the table still stood nearly in front of the entry way, and the small sunken sitting room had his glasses thrown on the table. No light was on behind the privacy separator, but there was room underneath it to be able to tell that no one hid behind it.

When the door slid shut, Halt turned to Will, watching his apprentice throw a bundle of letters beside a box atop the table. No questions left his lips. Instead, he said something else, wanting to fill the silence.

"The final plans have been arranged, Will," he murmured, glancing around the room. The younger man gestured towards the couch in the sitting area, and Halt moved towards it, continuing with what he had said. "Shigeru wanted to go right away, but we were able to persuade him away from that. But we are leaving soon."

Back at the table, Will took out the letter that he had earlier put in his jacket, and tied it to the top of the bundle of letters. "How soon?" he murmured, shoving the packet into the box, and closing the top.

Halt shrugged, "Knowing the Emperor, he'll probably push for earlier, but we agreed on a week. That gives time for those coming with to get ready, and the messenger sent to Ito to prepare those from there who will be coming with." Halt glanced to Will, wondering if he had more questions, but he just motioned for Halt to continue while he moved to a small cabinet that was nearby his bed. While his eyes followed his apprentice, Halt said, "It won't take too long to get to Ito from here, and when we get to Ito, we'll remain for a few days. Mostly to make sure everyone has everything that they need for an extended journey.

"After that, we'll board a ship, and head to Arrida. I heard rumors that a few higher-ups of Duncan and Cassandra's might have fled there, so we might spend a good amount of time there—"

"Do you know who?" Will broke in, a frown creasing his face when he looked up to the older man.

Unfazed by his interruption, Halt shook his head, "No. All that I know is that they were part of the advisors for the crown, so it could be anyone. Even if we only find one person though, they could still help."

Will looked away, the frown still clouding his face. "We will stop at Al Shabah? For Selethen?"

Nodding, Halt smiled sadly. "Haven't seen him in a while, have we?" A quietness settled between the two of them, both remembering the unlikely friend they had found in the Arridan Wakir. Neither had doubts as to whether or whether not Selethen would accept Araluen refugees.

Without prompting, Halt continued: "After leaving Arrida, Royal Advisor or not, then we'll head back to Araluen. We'll probably stop at a port town in Gallica or Hibernia first, restock a few things, and prepare for what might happen when we finally land back home."

**Home.**

Will froze, the word resounding over and over in his head. Was Araluen still his home?

"It's almost time for dinner, Will," Halt interrupted his thoughts, jerking him back into reality before he went too deep. "Anything else?"

"Is Russell coming?" The ex-Ranger asked, not daring to look at Halt, just in case he saw the fear in his eyes. He didn't know why the delegate scared him, but he knew everything the man said was probably a lie. It was obvious he wasn't from Arrida, considering his skin and hair color and mannerisms. Arrida wouldn't elect someone to be an embassy unless they were born in Arrida, so he obviously wasn't an embassy either. So what was he? **Who** was he?

"Yes," Halt said plainly, not realizing how the answer affected Will, or even that it did. "He'll only come with us halfway, though, only to Arrida. There he'll stay behind, as he really has no business coming along."

After the grizzled Ranger spoke, Will didn't respond, and any source of conversation died. As Will continued to shuffle around in the cabinet, Halt slowly became aware that something had changed in the atmosphere, and took one furtive glance at his apprentice's back. Had something upset him? Halt pursed his lips, and considered everything he had said.

He hadn't been upset when they had originally come to the room, and Will had been amiable just seconds before he had finished speaking of their plans. Did he not agree with them? Did something bother him about them?

Either way, he knew it was time to leave. Halt sighed, and got up from his spot on the couch. "Are you coming to dinner?"

Will glanced towards the box, his eyes going over Halt as if he weren't there at all. Not going to dinner would give him more time to read, enabling him to begin the third reason sooner than he had planned. But that would hurt. 'It would hurt a lot,' Will realized, recalling the pain he had felt when he had read Gilan's letter. Would he be able to take more of that, in just one night?

His face was still stiff from the tears Horace's letter had caused, and that was only halfway read through.

The only letters still left to read were the half of his brother's letter, and Halt's. And Alyss'.

Alyss.

No.

Before he could think otherwise, Will tore his eyes away from the box. "Okay. I'll see you at dinner in a few. I'll start packing."

'I will not read them. I will not read the rest of them **until** we've left for Ito. Then—then it's a free game.'

* * *

Three days later, and Shigeru finished persuading Halt to leave earlier. They would leave the next day, as everyone who had been chosen to come had packed the night they were told, and everyone was just waiting. Those who remained were asked not to do anything in farewell for the Emperor, but Reito had decided to ignore his ruler's wishes for once, and roused quite a few people.

Will rode not at the back, but near the front with Halt and Shigeru. Russell was also nearby, causing Will to go to the opposite side. He had been able to siddle over to the edge, and was currently hiding beneath the shade of a tree. No one noticed him, so no one approached him to say goodbye.

From a distance, the ex-Ranger watched as Meissa and Hassan said goodbye to Halt, their minimal part already played. They had passed over the information, even if they hadn't realized what they had done. Iqbal was dead, and hadn't been the one to start the war that had ended Araluen reign. No one had told either Arridan that they had been given a task and were supposed to meet with him either.

Everything he had previously believed had been proved wrong.

They were headed into unknown territory, and it set his nerves on edge.

Their small group set forward, the remaining servants and guards at the summer palace waving farewell. And still, Will sat beneath the tree, watching the group as they passed by.

Shigeru hadn't wanted to bring too many people, as with a long sea trip, people tended to get bored and irritable when packed together. A few servants, trusted and well-known. A small group a _senshi_ , all riding directly behind where Shigeru rode. Last came the servants that were transporting a few things between Ito and the summer palace, but not actually coming along with them.

Before they rode around the corner, Will watched as Halt's head suddenly jerked up, startling Russell beside him. He said a few quick words to Shigeru on his other side, who calmly shook his head in response, and said something in return. They had noticed he wasn't with them.

That was fine. He wouldn't ride with them. He liked going his own ways, traveling alone except for the horse with him. The only thing that ever bothered him with that set up was the horse itself. It wasn't Tug. It would never be Tug. He had no clue what had happened to his life-long partner, but after all these years, he couldn't possibly still be alive. He just hoped he had been taken care of until his final days.

So he had been given a new horse, although his relationship with her was never the same. Her name was Mutiny, although he never found out why, and she was a lighter grey than Tug, almost the color of seafoam. She wasn't the same.

And for that, he was glad. He wouldn't want another horse other than Tug, especially if someone tried to get the horse to imitate the smaller horse. He didn't want a replacement.

Will turned her head into the forest, intending to take a shortcut to where he knew their first campsite would be. He would get there a few hours before them, giving him more time alone, and time to hunt. And time to read.

He mostly went through wooded country, over hills to see small valleys and ravines. He knew the way to and from Ito and the Summer Palace well enough that he could go multiple ways through the forest and be fine. He never pushed Mutiny too hard, and Mutiny never complained. Every few hours, they would stop at a small, thin river they were following for a drink. Later, at the first camping ground, this small river would widen, and would be the main watering hole for the grazing horses.

That was actually the short-cut. Follow the river from the Summer Palace all the way to the first camp. There were small tells that would giveaway cheats such as that. Not that he told anyone, because no one would follow him into the supposedly wild country that he currently rode.

Sometimes he would hunt while he rode, sometimes he would write or read, or carve something. This time, he just wanted to observe the country and internalize it—because he had realized something when he had been standing underneath that tree.

It could very well be the last time he saw these views.

He didn't know if he would be returning to Nihon-Ja after they discovered what had gone wrong in Araluen, or if he would stay.

By the time he got to the campsite, his mind was convinced that they would make it to Araluen, only to find out that Duncan had sent him on a whim, the reasons were a hallucination, and everything was fine in his old country. That nothing had ever been wrong. He would have lost six years. Halt would have been sent to find him, with specific instructions from Malcolm about what happened.

Just as he had predicted, he had gotten to the campsite first, and instead of sitting down to read, he had decided to go hunting. By the time he had gotten back, bringing two rabbits slung over his shoulder, the small party was setting up tents and a few fires. Halt had looked up when his apprentice approached, holding out the rabbits to him. As if nothing had happened, as if Will hadn't disappeared for the duration of the day, Halt took them, and began to prepare them for a stew.

Although the fire looked warm, Will didn't bother to sit beside the Emperor or even Halt. They would want to talk, and at the moment, that was exactly **not** what he wanted. Instead, he walked away, and sat against a tree. Close enough to the fire that he could see, far enough away so no one would approach him. Before, he had paused near Mutiny, where his saddle bags were laid. He took out two letters.

He unfolded Horace's, knowing that he would have to finish it eventually . . .

_Obviously, now you can't. You're not here. You'd be too late. You wouldn't be able to do anything. I don't know when you'll get this, if you ever will. Who knows what condition Araluen could be in by the time you lay eyes on this?_

_So don't beat yourself up over it. Because we_ all _know that you will. You're like that. You've always been like that. So, if these truly are supposed to be 'my last words' to you, bud . . ._

_Take care of yourself. Stay safe._

_Don't die._ _Not yet._

And that was it. He thought he had more to read than that. Will sat numb against the tree, rereading the few lines over and over again . . .

_Take care of yourself. Stay safe._

_Don't die. Not yet._

And again . . .

_Take care of yourself. Stay safe._

_Don't die. Not yet._

And again . . .

_Take care of yourself. Stay safe._

_Don't die. Not yet._

_**"Actually, do me a favor and forget that last line,"**_ Someone snarled into his hear.

Will flinched, jerking forward to spin around. The paper had been clutched in both of his hands. It still was, just in two parts. Anger flared, and the ex-Ranger got to his feet, putting a hand on the katana that was tied at his side—but no one was behind him.

And the voice had been Horace's.

He sat back down, before anyone noticed him.

Looking back to the papers in his hands, Will morosely ducked his head. The entire thing was ripped in half.

' _Take care of yourself. Stay safe.'_ was ripped after the 'l' in yourself.

' _Don't die. Not yet.'_ was still whole.

Shoving the piece of Horace's note that didn't have those words into his pocket, he got to his feet, and marched over to where Mutiny still grazed. This time, he carefully folded the remaining piece into the envelope, and carefully slid it into the saddle bag—just beneath where he had his old Ranger cloak stashed.

When he turned, Halt was walking up to him, a bowl in hand.

The stew smelled good.

The only thing Will could think of was the next letter. A stranger's words in familiar script? Was that what all of the letters were? Or could they be true? Could Gilan really be angry and bitter over him not taking the brunt of the injuries, and was Cassandra really scared of her own father? Was Horace really that resigned to his death?

Halt's was the next letter.

"Stew?" The Ranger held out the bowl to him, unaware of the turmoil behind the younger man's eyes. Will continued to stare blankly at him, his hands remaining limp at his sides.

When Will didn't take it, Halt reached forward, and prodded him with a finger. "Will? Are you hungry?"

Not knowing where the anger came from, the ex-Ranger bit the side of his mouth, trying to retain the fury from bursting. He wasn't successful.

"No, I'm not hungry, Halt, why the hell would you think that?" he snapped, "and before you ask, because we both know you will, **yes,** I'm fine, just as my answer has been every day. I'm not **fragile** , Halt, I can take care of myself. I don't need someone bringing me meals when I don't come for one, and I don't need someone to invite me everywhere because they think I might decide that **today's** the day that I off myself!" Inwardly, Will had no clue what he was saying, nor why. But he couldn't stop. "I'll come to you if I need to, so just leave me the hell alone, damn it!"

He spun on his heels, and marched away from Halt and Mutiny. The older man stood there for a moment, letting Will's words sink in. A moment later, he looked up, watching his apprentice's receding back against the field.

Halt took the stew back to the campfire, and handed it to one of the servants, ignoring the Emperor's curious stare.

Will, on the other hand, let his knees collapse underneath him as Halt went out of sight. Rolling onto his back, he stared up at the night sky, picking out patterns and constellations that were now familiar to him. Six years ago, they were unfamiliar.

Araluen was no longer his home.

Halt, no longer his father.

Horace, no longer his brother.

Alyss, no longer his wife?

He slipped his hand into his pocket, and pulled out one of the remaining letters. Halt's . . .

_Will,_

_You've probably heard already, but Duncan is gone. Missing or dead, we actually don't know. Princess Cassandra can't seem to decide if that's a good thing or bad thing. On one hand, he was dragging down the country, and was probably the source of a few misdirections. On the other, he was her father, and was normally not like that. I've tried to tell her that she can love and miss her father, but she can be glad he's gone as well. They aren't mutually exclusive of the other. And that it doesn't mean that she hates him if she's glad he's gone either. She thinks that with her current feelings, it means that she never loved her father._

_It doesn't help either that Horace is practically worked to the point of exhaustion from cleaning up the King's mistakes. He has also been helping Cassandra with running the country, which was doubly hard for both of them because of the state of war we were in. He was also pushing himself to take more of Cass' work, because she was still currently dealing with Duncan and his fits—or whatever was going on with him. So here he is, trying to run a war, take pressure off his grieving wife, and clean up her father's mistakes. That doesn't include dealing with his own grief—his missing brother._

_Thankfully, though, Alyss and Gilan left the country, like you. This one, thankfully, was authorized by both Cass and Horace, and was recommended to happen by both myself and Crowley. Considering how we lost supposed contact with you, we decided to send someone else to investigate a possible cause of this war. Assuming that_ is _what Duncan even sent you out to do. Even if they don't find anything, at least they're out of here. Gilan can't handle much on his own, with all of his accumulated injuries, and Alyss is still partially distraught by everything that has happened. They both needed out of here, and it's good that they didn't go alone. Like you._

_The only problem is that we've lost contact with them as well. What we had to go on was a name, and with some research, we found that the name was Gallican, and was actually a lord of an inland fief. Sound's flimsy, I know, but we were grasping at straws by then, so what else were we supposed to do?_

_At least it wasn't Deparnieux I sent them to._

Sending two important people away for something little more than a **name?** That wasn't—normally they wouldn't do something like that. They would look for more evidence. Not send them out on a whim.

Or maybe that was all they had left. He had been sent away to investigate one lead, technically, and he never returned. Supposedly they had also lost contact with the others . . .

 _Ever since those two left, though, something has been different. I don't want to say that things are_ _easier_ , _because they aren't. But we may, or may not, have gotten a somewhat tenuous handle on things. Although the Rangers are reduced to only three of us now, with Gil gone, we are still all here, and it's been a while since Skinner . . . passed away. As I said before, Duncan is no longer here, and so there are no contradicting orders flying around. We have possible intel that could bring us to whoever started this, and that, of course, is where Alyss and Gilan went._

 _Everyone is hopeful that this might be ending, and that we could recall everyone back, and just forget about everything. But for some reason, I feel like that won't be happening. The enemy drawing back for no reason? Usually when that happens, it's because they are preparing for something bigger. Something we could have never prepared for, or could have guessed. And, with that in mind, as well as everything else we've already been through . . . what_ is _the likelihood that Araluen_ WILL _survive?_

_I guess . . . with that being said, you might be the only one to remain. Of Araluen, that is. Unless Alyss and Gil survived. Take care, Will, because one day, Araluen might need you again. Don't forget to practice, to keep yourself from getting rusty._

_I'll miss you._

Will threw the letter away from his face.

A stranger's words in a familiar script.

Had he really been gone for so long, that he forgot who his family was? What they were like? How much they . . . how much they loved him?

* * *

The room was as he left it when he had left that spring. Cold, dusty, and bare. He had never stayed in this room whenever they had been in Ito. He had always gone somewhere else, spent the time with other people. Sometimes he even slept down in the servants quarters, where a few of his friends resided. It was more comfortable than remaining in this room for so long.

Hanging from his hand, nearly falling to the floor from how loosely he held it, was a letter.

Alyss'.

He didn't want to read it at the moment. Tossing it on the table was one of the hardest things for him to do, even so. But he forced himself to do so, and walked past it while he went to the double doors of the small balcony that was connected to the room. He hated how the perfect weather mirrored what weather had been present the day he had first gotten here. Perfect golden leaves, raining down and gilding the world.

The door opened behind him, the person not bothering to knock. Will's irritation grew when Halt said: "You coming to dinner?"

"No," he snapped in response, without even bothering to turn around. A few seconds later, and he felt bad, and offered an explanation. "I'm tired. I'm going to bed. Having lived here for six years, though, I'm pretty sure I can find my own way to the kitchens."

When Halt didn't respond, Will glanced over his shoulder, wondering if he had left. He only stood halfway into the room, the door still partially closed. As if he had known Will would say something shocking. Instead of reprimanding him, or backing down, Halt nodded sadly, and turned away. Before he closed the door, however, he turned and said: "I should have guessed you would know the way to the kitchens. Stealing more blueberry sweetcakes?" He quipped, shutting the door behind him before Will could even think to respond.

He hesitated to move, wondering if he should follow Halt out the door, or remain in his room.

Instead, he turned to the balcony, and opened the doors. Now he breathed in the perfect weather, and hated it all the more.

Turning back into the room, Will went to the couch, throwing himself onto it. Kicking his feet up, he studied the ceiling. A few seconds later, he tilted his head back down, unable to stay still.

His eyes landed on the letter, next to his feet.

Unsheathing his throwing dagger, he leaned forward and snatched the envelope off the table. He didn't waste the time to break the seal, but instead used the small knife to slit open the top. He tossed the dagger onto the table, instead of sheathing it.

Four pieces of paper, all of it the same type of thick paper that all the other letters had been written on. Curlicue writing, hauntingly familiar. He didn't read it, but instead flipped to the very last page, and studied the signature at the bottom. Same writing, just larger, and something more intimate within the curls, although he couldn't see any evidence of anything extra. Or maybe, it was just the fact that she signed it " _Alyss Mainwaring-Treaty"_.

It almost seemed apologetic, as she had never taken his last name.

* * *

When he finally woke up, it was because of how loud his stomach growled, in combination with the freezing wind that blew through the open balcony doors, and into the room. The fire was down to the embers, the fireplace angled so it was directly in the path of the blasts. It wasn't raining just yet, but from one glance outside, he could see the storm clouds rolling in. Had he really left the doors open?

Rolling onto his side, Will went to sit up, but froze when he heard something crunch at his side. Looking down, he realized he had fallen asleep with Alyss' letter still clutched in his hand, without having read any of it. Standing, he shoved it into his jacket, and moved to the balcony doors. It took a bit of effort on his part to shut the thin doors against the wind, but eventually he was able to push them shut. Surprisingly, he was forced to put the bar down in front of the doors in order to keep them shut, with the wind being so strong.

Will went to a small stack of firewood, which had probably been replenished when word had gotten through that they were returning early. After kindling a small fire, he sat back, and waited for the room to warm. Soon enough, the fire spread, making the area around the hearth too hot for him to sit there. He stood, and finally took a look around the room.

They may have replenished the fire, but no one had dusted. They never dusted, considering he was never actually in this room. They would only dust it if he asked them too, or if he did it himself. Or if Shigeru came in, noticed, and ordered it to be done.

Suddenly, the small, warm room felt suffocating.

"What about some food?" Will murmured to himself, going to the door. Although the kitchens were fairly far from his room, it wasn't too hard to find his way through the castle, and to the kitchens. He'd wandered this castle for nearly six years, exempting the times when he was at the summer palace, where he wandered as well. Closing the door silently behind him, he moved down the hall, his feet making not even a whisper on the tile floor.

In the early days of him being in Nihon-Ja, he'd wandered the halls silently, in disbelief of practically being kicked out of his own country. Because of his dark clothing, his noiseless way of walking, and the fact that he didn't come out during the day usually, some of the servants believed the castle to be haunted. When someone nearly ran into him one night, they screamed, fainted, and woke the entire castle. After that scene, Shigeru had **politely** asked Will to wander during the day, or go out into the city. Or at least make some type of noise. That, among a few other things, were why he ended up on the streets of Ito, and the servant quarters of the castle.

" _Vh….Megslf….Kahm…..lelr…"_ Will paused at a door only a few down from his.

An empty guest chamber? Looking over his shoulder, and seeing no one coming, he stepped closer, and put his ear to the door. Normally, he wouldn't think of doing something like that, but the guest chamber was supposed to be empty. Either way, what language were they using? What guest would be here that wouldn't speak Nihon-Jan, but speak something nearly unheard of?

The muffled voice seemed angry, and it took a while before Will realized who was actually speaking. Russell, the embassy from earlier, who was supposed to leave with them when they left for Araluen.

That's when Will finally realized what language he was using.

Listening intently, Will slowly translated what Russell was saying word by word. It had been years since he had last heard the language, and years more since he had spoken it. But as the foreigner spoke more, the faster the language came back to him, and soon enough, Will was keeping pace with the conversation the embassy was having with his silent companion.

After a few minutes, he stood. A chill crawled up his spine as he continued to back away. He wasn't exactly sure what he had heard, but he remembered enough to know what the intent was. Then the last word clicked, and the delicate balance Will had created for everything that had been piling up in his mind—shattered. The tower toppled, and the ex-Ranger's eyes went blank with the overload of panicked emotions.

Will went back to his room, without going to the kitchens, food forgotten.

He went straight to the table, and snatched up Alyss' letter.

Studying it once more, he took in the writing, curlicue and elegant, the signature, large and wound around a mystery. The almost apologetic addition of his last name to her's, as if there was something unspoken between the two of them. Four pages. What would she have to say in four pages?

A stranger's words in a familiar script.

By then, the fire in the hearth was blazing, so when he threw the unread letter into the flames, it flared into ashes nearly immediately.

* * *

Halt glanced towards the door, expecting it to open any moment. It should have opened hours ago.

Sighing, he finally realized that something could have upset his apprentice, and that he might _not_ be coming down for a while. Unless someone went up there for him.

As he stood, the old Ranger reached across the table he had been sitting at for the past few hours, and grabbed the plate that sat there. Will's cold breakfast, gone long untouched. Sighing again, he turned away from the table, and went through the door. Maybe he just overslept himself, or he had forgotten he had agreed to eat with Halt, and had gone to find Shigeru.

Remembering the Emperor, he decided to go check with him before he went to Will's room, reasoning that it was probably more likely that Will had forgotten something rather than oversleep. The Emperor's chambers were at the back, on one of the top floors. Luckily, with Will's connections and relationship to Shigeru, his room wasn't too far from where the Ranger was going.

Halfway, though, he met the Nihon-Ja Emperor in the hall, diligently followed by two _senshi_. "Ah! Halto-san, how was your rest? Is anything needed for your comfort in these next few days?" he said, happily changing the direction he was walking in to match Halt's trail.

"No, thank you, your excellence. Everything's fine . . ." he trailed off, knowing that Shigeru would pick up on the missing shadow.

Something new flickered in Shigeru's smile as he said, "Fine . . . but?"

Halt smiled grimly, and looked over to the Emperor next to him. "Do you know where Will is?"

Sadly, he shook his head, a frown overtaking his usual permanent smile. "I have not seen dear _Chocho_ since yesterday, unfortunately. If he is not in his rooms, then it's likely that he went somewhere to be alone. He has a hiding place at both palaces, but I haven't been able to find his here in Ito just yet." Shigeru motioned towards a door. Will's. Somehow, they had ended up here, Halt's feet taking the tracks he had taken the day before, or following Shigeru, he didn't know.

Nodding his thanks, Halt stepped towards the door. Before he knocked, however, he turned and watched Shigeru walk away. Constantly shadowed by the _senshi._ An uneasiness swept over the Ranger, suddenly making him sure that something might befall the fair ruler, something bad—and connected with Araluen's demise. He was suddenly glad that those _senshi_ were there.

Before he turned back to the door, Shigeru suddenly spun, a lightness to his face. "Halto-san, I forgot to say. _Chocho's_ hiding place is most likely high, and hard to get to. As well as outdoors. When he disappears here, he isn't seen by anyone for hours and days on end. No one can find him, and we both know how he likes heights."

Halt smiled, nodding his thanks once more. "Ah, thank you, your excellency. That will probably help, knowing Will."

At that, Shigeru turned away, leaving the old Ranger alone with a plate of cold breakfast and standing at his former apprentice's door.

He knocked, and waited for the door to open.

But once again, the door didn't open.

He knocked again, considering that maybe Will was just exhausted from the ride. They did go fairly fast, and he had always ended up at their campsite before them. With his six years here, in a sort of confinement, his skills and stamina could have gone down and he could have just been pushing himself.

The door remained shut.

Halt sighed once again, and tried the handle. Surprisingly, the door opened silently. Halt pursed his lips as he stepped in, immediately disapproving that the joints were greased. The door should squeak when being opened. Upon seeing the room, he suddenly wondered how often Will truly spent in that room.

It was near spotless. His dirty clothes were laying, now clean, near the fireplace, and folded. His cloak was hanging over the edge of a chair, which was placed in front of the hearth. The whole room, however, was covered in dust.

Next to the chair sat a small package.

Letting curiosity lead him, Halt wandered over to the box, wondering if it was the source of the papers Will had been carrying around. The lid wasn't secured in anyway, so he just flipped one of the flaps, and peeked inside. Within the box, leather folders stuffed with papers were stacked impossibly thick. A few small squares were shoved into the sides, and when he pulled one out, he was surprised to see that it had his name on the outside. He placed the cold breakfast on Will's table. Not wanting to snoop, but not remembering writing or receiving a letter, Halt opened it, glad to see that the seal, which was Duncan's oddly enough, was already broken.

Although he was expecting a letter to him, Halt found that it was a letter **from** him.

Now he wasn't sure what alarmed him most: the fact that he didn't remember writing a letter to Will, and Duncan putting a seal on it, or the fact that he **knew** that he hadn't. And Will had read it.

Had he believed it?

Halt considered reading it, seeing the words scrawled down the page. Instead, he shoved the letter back into the envelope, and put it back into the box. Leaving the plate where it was, he quickly checked behind the few doors in the room, before he headed towards the door, intent on finding his apprentice. Obviously, he wasn't in these rooms. Where else?

He froze. Pausing with his hand on the handle, he turned back towards the small area that held the hearth and the seat. Beyond that was a small balcony.

Shigeru **had** said that the hiding spot could be outdoors.

Making his way to the doors, he stepped over the box without looking down, not wanting to entice himself to pick the letter back up. Except there was no one outside the doors, which he could see from it being partially cracked. He moved forwards despite that, and opened them completely, in case Will was against one of the doors and he just couldn't see around.

The balcony was empty.

Glancing upwards, he noted that the room was on the top floor, and the gable was right above his head. Frowning, Halt moved further out, seeing if he could get a better view of the roof. "Will?" Halt called, squinting at an odd shape he could see over the edge of the overhang. As he watched, the shape shifted, and was gone. Was that him? "Will, you up there?" he called once more.

No response came.

Halt frowned, sighing with frustration. "Will? Please, you can talk to me if you need to." He was almost sure that his apprentice was up there, but the problem would be to get him down.

After waiting for a good long while, Halt felt something hit his head. Looking back up, he saw that storm clouds had finally rolled in, and it was starting to rain. Glancing once more to the overhang, he tried one last time: "Will?"

Nothing.

He went inside, closing the door behind him, but leaving it unbarred. If he was up there, he would need a way to get back in.

As the door closed behind the old Ranger, Will swung his leg over the edge, while he sat on his other foot, and looked out over the city. Briefly, his eyes glanced downwards. But he didn't swing his other leg over, or stand up, or drop to the balcony to follow Halt inside. He looked back up, his eyes going above his head, to study the dark clouds above him despite still being midmorning.

The sky broke, shattered, releasing a storm Ito hadn't seen since long before Shigeru was even born.

And still he sat upon the roof.

Watching the rain.

And waiting.

Waiting for the familiar script to form words of someone he knew, rather than that of a stranger.

An enemy, rather. He knew the words, he knew the threat. There was no way to predict what would happen if he continued on to Araluen, but there was no doubt that someone was around, watching him. They were there to keep him from returning to his home country. What was there to hide in the ruins of a former empire? Were they afraid of him finding something? If so, what?

He didn't know. He only knew that he was no longer alone, ever, as they were always watching.

Just as he was watching the rain fall, falling down.

Falling down, to somewhere better than where he was at then.


End file.
